


A Little Bit(ty) of Hope

by Calcium_Cat



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones (Undertale), Angst with a Happy Ending, Bitty Fighting, But he's an edgy, Edgy Sans (Undertale), Except for Rick, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kinda, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader comes in chapter 3, Reader is trying, Recovery, Some Fluff moments are sprinkled in, Strong Language, Trauma, edgy bitty - Freeform, everyone gets a happy ending, shock collar, slow pacing, so what did you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 68,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calcium_Cat/pseuds/Calcium_Cat
Summary: Surviving.It's only thing this Edgy Bitty knows how to do. And he's good at it too. It's why he's still alive after months upon months of fighting for his life in the bitty-fighting ring. But when one opponent pushes him to his limits and he's close to dusting, a miracle happens.He escapes.However, he can't surive on his own for long. Even if he didn't dust in the ring, he's sure to dust if left to the elements. Especially since he's injured and all. But one miracle is rare enough, surely he can't expect another . . . . . . . right?
Comments: 235
Kudos: 215





	1. Cover




	2. Just Another Day

_flick_

The screwy lightbulb that hung from the ceiling buzzed to life, flooding the small room with yellow incandescent light. The bitty squinted at the sudden brightness. He couldn’t see anything while his eyelights adjusted to the transition, but he didn’t need to. He knew what the light meant.

“Get up Choker,” a raspy male voice said, not _too_ gruffly.

Huh. Bastard must be in a good mood today then.

Too bad Choker didn’t feel the same. 

Still, as much as every bone he had protested any movement, Choker obeyed and slowly pushed himself upright. He rubbed an eye socket, yawned, and looked up at the human through the bars that made up his cage’s ceiling.

The man who stared back was in his late thirties, but being years of drugs and achol abuse made him look older. As did his stringy blond hair that always hung in his eyes and the uneven scruff on his face. Only his blue, bloodshot eyes revealed his true age.

They also silently spoke of his activities last night and his current hangover. He looked sober now, but Choker knew from experience that his patience would be lower than normal (which was already low to begin with). So the bitty sat and silently watched, giving him his best soured expression. 

Meanwhile the man crossed the small shed and shakily knelt down a few inches away from his cage. He turned over the beat up cardboard box in his arms and let the contents pour out onto the floor. Then, with his gloved hand he fumbled with the padlock until it shook loose enough for him to open the cage door.

“Alright, come on” he sighed, settling cross-legged on the floor an arms-length away from him.

The odor coming from the days-old food pile was enough to make Choker's SOUL lurch. However, since he didn’t want to get his coccyx in trouble, he only grumbled under his breath as he shuffled over to the door. Jumping down onto the wood floor, he mirrored his master’s sitting position and plopped down in front of the food.

String cheese, cold chinese take out, half-eaten bagels of different flavors, a sandwich that was already showing signs of molding, and some bologna slices with traces of mustard. All of this food meant only one thing- he had a fight tonight. 

“Start eating,” the man commanded, before pulling out his cellphone.

Choker was always tempted to try something when he was distracted and he always had to resist it. It was pointless to escape with his collar still on and tracking him. So he settled for eating his food in peace. He selected the sandwich and began wolfing it down. It tasted awful, but food was food, and the faster he ate it, the sooner it’d be over with. Besides, he did feel just a little bit better when he had a fully restored HP. He just wished the guy could spare a little mustard to make it all a bit more edible.

A few minutes passed. Choker finished the sandwich and moved on to the chinese take out. As he stuffed a handful of rice into his mouth, he heard a hoarse chuckle from above. He looked up to see the human smiling his yellow-toothed smile. He rarely ever smiled, but when he did, it was always for one reason. Money.

Still, Choker couldn’t help asking with some chow mein hanging from his mouth, “what’so funny?”

The man continued staring at his phone as he muttered to himself, “Todays’ gonna be a good day . . .”

“why?” The bitty asked again.

This time he glanced down at Choker with a greedy look. “Says’ they’re gonna double the prize money for the bitty that wins the final round tonight.”

The bitty rolled his eyelights, reaching for a slice of bologna. “oh, is that all.”

The man’s grin contorted into a half-hearted frown. “Don’t give me that, Choker, I’m not in the mood. You’re gonna win that fight for me or else.”

“i know, i know. ya don’t gotta worry about non’a that,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

The smile didn’t return but the answer still satisfied the man. Turning back to his phone, he said, “Whatever, just . . . don’t this screw up.”

Then looking back at the bitty he added, “Besides, if ya win, _maybe_ I’ll pick up something on the way back.

Choker didn’t look away in time to hide his dilating eyelights. There were very, _very_ few good things in Choker’s life, and hot, greasy fast food was one of them. He could count on his phalanges the number of times he’d actually gotten any.

 _“maybe the bastard is right . . . maybe today will be a good day . . .”_ The bitty thought, stuffing the last bit of stale bagel through his sharp teeth.

Since the man had gone back to scrolling, Choker took the opportunity to lay on the floor. His torso extended a little even if there was no food in it, and he could sense his HP was back to its max limit. Feeling stuffed and full . . . it made him want to laze around and sleep for hours. Preferably somewhere warm. Maybe a soft towel like the ones at the adoption center, or pillow in direct sunlight, or a gentle, cozy human han-

“Rrgh, Choker! Stop that and finish your damn food!” The human shouted, snapping the bitty from his food-induced haze.

He begrudgingly lifted himself onto his elbows. He looked around. What was he talking about? He'd eaten all the- oh. There was a stick of cheddar cheese a few inches in front of him. How had he missed that? 

Normally Choker would just get up and get it over with, but he was already so full and the discolored cheese didn’t look appetizing. Before he could think better of it, he shook his head and said, “yeah, no, i’m good. besides, i already maxed out my HP so-”

“I don’t care,” he scowled, “now do what I said and eat the damn cheese.”

The Bitty glared back. “i just told ya i’m-” 

The man cut him off by whipping out a tiny remote from his pocket.

Choker tried to stifle the squeak of terror his throat. Scrambeling to his feet, he quickly walked with his head down over to the piece of food. He said in what he hoped was an annoyed rather than a nervous sounding-tone, “a-alright, i’ll eat yer damn cheese!”

He tentatively reached for the food as if it would bite him. His phalanges were just an inch away when an electric shock suddenly rippled throughout his tiny frame, knocking him to his knees. He gasped, clutching his collar with one hand as he balanced his upper body one the other.

Gasping for air, he grunted, **”what the hell you asshole!-? i was doin’ whatcha said!”**

“Yeah, after talking back to me twice. Just be glad I gave you only one zap,” He said, looking annoyed. “Now pick it up and finish it off in your cage. I’m running late for work as it is and I’m not gonna stay here and babysit you.”

Choker struggled to his feet and grasped the cheese in his tiny, trembling claws. It was almost as big as him. Still, he dragged it across the floor, picking up splinters as he went. He shoved it through the opening before climbing over the ledge himself. No sooner had he gotten in then he had the door slammed roughly behind him and locked. He lost his balance, still recovering from the electric shock. He turned around in time to see the human put his phone in his sagging pant pocket as he walked to the door. 

Choker continued to sit there, shaking uncontrollably. Shaking from pain, from anger, from _misery_. 

The human opened the door, walked through, then turned back to shut it. Before he did, he looked back at the bitty and glared darkly. 

“If that isn’t gone when I get back tonight, I don’t care if you win- you’re not gonna get _anymore_ food the rest of this week.”

Choker jumped as door slammed shut. It was quiet now, save for the humming light bulb and his beating SOUL.

Stupid bastard.

It’s not like he was gonna get fast food anyway. 

He couldn't afford to waste any prize money on Choker. Not with his addictions to feed. And cocaine is one expensive drug.

The bitty looked over at the cheese. Even if he wasn’t gonna get food he was promised, he sure didn’t want the punishment that was. So, despite his SOUL recoiling at the prospect, he swallowed the sticky cheese bit by bit. It was hard work, and it didn’t help that his throat felt tight.

Once he finished, he limped over to his sorry excuse for a bed and nestled into it. It wasn’t easy to sleep with the light on, but his full ‘stomach’ helped lull him into a drowsy state. He might as well try , seeing how it would be several hours before the bastard returned. Before he’d be taken away from the refuge of his cage. Before he’d have to fight other bitties. 

Before . . . yeah. 

He didn’t want to think about what awaited him. He just wanted to sleep. To escape from the cruel joke that was his dismal existence.

He’d deal with his problems later.

____________________________________________________________ 

Choker stared at the door from his rag-bed. 

He had been awake for what felt like at least an hour or two now, and that bastard hadn’t returned yet. He didn’t have a clock or anything to tell time by, but he somehow instinctively knew when to expect the asshole. That instinct told him now that it was way past his usual arrival time, and his gut told him it was for a _bad_ reason.

He thought about going back to sleep, but the human often got mad when he napped and since he had left in a bad mood, Choker didn’t want to risk it. So he just sat there, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the inevitable.

Waiting. He hated doing that more than he hated kill-

CLICK. WHOOSH. SLAM.

The bitty whisked around, his SOUL in his throat. It was his hu- er- the bastard again. He looked even angrier than when he left. And he smelled of fresh alchol- the strong kind. Warily, Choker stood up and walked toward him as the man did the same (albiet it clumsily). 

He folded his arms, trying not to look nervous, and asked as casually as he could, “bad day at work?”

Asking about work usually made the guy happy, as it gave him an opening to vent, and it made Choker happy, as it meant the man’s ̶a̶n̶g̶e̶r̶ attention wasn’t directed at him.

Suddenly, the man’s frown turned into an angry grin and he began chuckling his guttural laugh until it turned into a coughing fit.

When Choker thought he’d be happy, he didn’t think _this_ kind of happy.

“Bad day?” The man asked once he caught his breath. He continued, his joker-esque smile slowly morphing into a snarl. “Guess ya could say that considerin’ I just got _fucking fired!_

The bitty’s soul sank at the news. It’s not like he cared what happened to this train wreck, but if he was out of a job, then _his_ situation just became a million times worse.

The man threw the carrier that was in his arms down on the floor as he screamed, “Some stupid bitch was too dumb to notice the floor I just mopped n’ went n’ tripped n’ injured herself. Then she decided to sue the gym because I didn’t put out a sign for dumb whoressss like her to read because they can’t see the _damn floor is wet!_. So instead of just telling her to ffffuck off they went and **fired** me- _hic._ ”

He stopped, breathing heavily through his nose like an angry bull ready to charge at anything that moved. His eyes looked distant, but Choker didn’t dare move-didn’t dare _breathe_ -in case those furious eyes targeted him.

A few seconds passed. Choker found the silence more unbearable than the screaming. Knowing he’d probably regret it, he mumbled, “so . . what now?”

As he feared, those raging, baggy eyes narrowed in on him. The man took the padlock key from his pocket as he said, “We’re going to the fight, that’ssss what.”

Choker took a step back as the man clicked the lock open. “w-wait, what about a warm up? shouldn’t i-”

“Don’t got time. We’re gonna be late as it, sssso come on.”

Normally Choker would feel a bit disappointed. Before a fight he usually got an hour or so to practice his moves on some targets (bottles, boxes, etc.) in the shed before it was time to pack up and go. It was supervised so he couldn’t escape but at least he got to stretch his legs and fight without the threat of dusting hanging over his skull.

But right now he had bigger problems than no training. 

Like the drunken hand that was heading straight for him.

Choker didn’t react- he couldn't react. Cold, white fear held him in place like it did everytime a hand came near him. It wasn’t until the gloved fingers wrapped tightly around his body and pulled him out of the cage that his fighting instincts kicked in.

He bit down as hard as he could. It wasn’t an attack- even with sharp teeth he could never pierce the glove enough to make it hurt. Biting was merely a reaction now- habitual, instinctual. It didn’t help the situation as much as it helped him feel better.

He wasn’t in control, but that wouldn’t keep him from fighting back.

However, the man raised the scratching and biting bitty into the air only a couple inches from his face, obviously not threatened. Choker saw why. In the other gloved hand was _the remote_. Choker stopped clawing, but he kept his mouth clamped down on the thumb pressing against his chest.

“Listen here you little _sssshit_ ,” he spat in the bitty’s face. If Choker thought he could barely breathe from the hand constricting him, all wind was knocked out of him now from the overwhelming stench of alcohol and sweat.

“Yer gonna fight n’ yer gonna ffffight n’til you win me that damn prize money, do you understand!? And if you lose and somehow survive, I’mma gonna- _hic_ \- dusssst yer shitty bitty body myself.” Choker’s eye sockets went dark. It didn’t matter that he’d seen the human angry before. It didn’t matter that he had been drunkenly violent and threatened to end him a hundred times before. Each time he felt a fresh wave of terror. In the hands of an unstable abuser, with no way to defend himself, knowing one wrong move would dust him for good- it was a fear he couldn’t become numb to no matter how many times it happened.

He trembled. He couldn’t help it. Shakily he choked out, “su-ure i-i-ll w-win, i-ll wi-i-n, i’ll-”

“YOU’D BETTER!” he shouted so loudly the bitty’s skull began ringing. “I NEED THAT MONEY!”

With a swoop of his arm he swung the bitty into the open carrier. Choker slammed into the back of it before ricocheting off it onto the bottom. He groaned. He was used to being thrown around, but it hurt more when he wasn’t prepared for it. 

The door swung shut before the bitty even had time to _consider_ teleporting. He sat up on his knees, prepared for the carrier to jerk into the air, but nothing happened. He heard a rustling noise before the gloved hand suddenly appeared again.

“'Nnn here! Take it!” He yelled gruffly, flinging something through the bars of the carrier. 

The bitty dove and grasped it with his claws just before the carrier moved. He laid down in a fetal position to avoid further bruising and stared at the item in his grasp. It was a glowing blue-ish white pill. They’re strictly used in clinics for bitty medical emergencies. But since bitty and human contact were prohibited within bitty fighting and he needed SOUL energy to survive, well, the pill was the only option for him.

Without hesitation he popped the pill in his mouth, grimacing slightly as he swallowed it. It was effective immediately, and he felt his SOUL hum increase and his magic flow become stronger. It didn’t beat human or bitty SOUL contact, but it sure did numb the pain from lack of it. 

Curling in on himself, Choker tried not let the vertigo from the swinging carrier get to him. He tried hard to focus on other stimuli. He listened for noises outside the carrier, but all he heard were the humans footsteps and muttered sentences like “damn pills more expensive than my fix” and “little ssshit doesn’t deserve it”.

The click of the door told him they were outside now and the freezing night air confirmed it. He was tempted to look outside the carrier but he feared seeing the world swim before his eyes in the rocking carrier might make him pass out. He kept his eye sockets shut firmly until he heard a rusty car door crank open and felt the carrier land roughly onto the floor of the car. He ignored the hurt the rough landing caused him and opened his eyes.

The dusty floor in front of him was littered with beer cans, fast food wrappers, indiscernible trash and two sickly-looking syringes. He wished he could blend in and join them. He wished he was miles away from this smelly hellhole. He wished . . . he wished for a lot of things.

But he wasn’t dumb enough to believe in wishes. Reality wasn’t kind like that.

The sputtering rumble of the truck’s engine jerked him from his thoughts. The human was still muttering insults, swears, and just plain gibberish under his breath, but Choker didn’t pay any attention to it. As the truck began it’s trek down the gravel road, the bitty crawled to the back of the carrier and curled up again.

It was 45 minutes until they’d reach the warehouse. Might as well spend that time sleeping. It’s not like he had anything better to do. Besides . . . 

He could use all the rest he could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, a chapter with words this time. :p
> 
> I'd love to hear what you guys think about the human. I've never written an abusive character before so I'm not sure how well I suceeded. I didn't want to make him overly cruel and risk him becoming some evil cardboard villian. At the end of the day he's still a human- just a rotten one.
> 
> Next chapter you'll get to see what little Choker here can do.


	3. Out of the Frying Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Bitty Fighting, Bitty Death

45 minutes went by quickly. Too quickly. 

The truck jerked forward then stopped, jostling Choker awake. Opening one eye socket, he heard the sputtering engine whimper before dying. He remained curled up in the back as doors creak open and slam shut. Without any warning he was hoisted ruffly under the man’s arm.

Choker slowly scooched to the door and sat in front of it, his legs crossed and his hands gripping the bars tightly for support. Since the carrier was firmly held, Choker’s vertigo lessened as he looked out. The warehouse they were heading towards looked abandoned, but Choker knew better. They passed several rows of beat up cars and motorcycles on their way. If it weren’t for this back parking lot hiding the vehicles from the view of the main road, they’d be screwed. 

Once they got to the double doors the carrier leaned backwards, forcing Choker to grip tighter to avoid falling. As he held on, he heard jangingling keys and a few muttered curses, before a faint click was rewarded with a painfully shrill squeak. They stepped out of the wintery night and into the slightly warmer dark hallway. The man scurried down it, shaking Choker as he went. He didn’t stop until he rounded a corner and came into a large factory room emptied of any factory equipment. Choker scuffled farther back into the carrier as the man started walking towards a fold-in table.

_SLAM_

Choker stifled a grunt. He opened his eyes and saw that his carrier was on the table. Inching timidly towards the bars again, he could see papers spread out on the desk, a cold coffee cup, and the hairy bulging arms of the man sitting behind it. A clipboard with a chart on it caught Choker’s eye. He couldn’t make out much of it, but the big black letters at the top were crystal clear.

**JANUARY 26 - THURSDAY**

He mused over the heading, digging through his hazy memory.

_january . . . january, it was january wasn’t it? yeah, it was. january 17th. so, that means . . ._

The bitty blinked, his jaw slightly agape.

_i’ve . . . its been a year . . . i’ve survived this hellhole for a whole damn **year!**_

He smirked, his eyelights growing slightly brighter.

_i’ve-_

“Name,” a gravelly voice said, distracting Choker.

“Rick . . . Rick Patterson.” 

“Mmmmm, kay Rick, I see yer a regular. Ya got your card onya?”

“Yes . . . here.” 

Choker watched the grizzly arm reach and when it pulled back, he saw the stained, laminated card that all Bitty Fighter owners have. The man only glanced at it before handing it back.

“Mmmm, k, looks good,” he mumbled, scratching something down on the chart. 

Suddenly, the man leaned over and peered into the carrier at Choker. The bitty jumped back, landing hard on the plastic carrier. He raised an arm reflexively, but he tried hiding his fear by glaring and threatening him with a low growl. The bearded man only laughed, his rotten, misshapen teeth on display as he grinned. Choker couldn’t help inhaling the thick scent of smoke and coffee that washed over him. He grimaced, scooting father away from him.

“An edgy, huh? ‘S always fun watchin’ their type fight. What’s the name?” he asked, turning back to Rick.

“It’s Choker,” he stiffly answered. 

“K, Choker.” He scribbled again.

The man handed the chart and a pen to Rick, stealing another glance at Choker as he did. The bitty didn’t growl but he continued to glare. The seething hatred in those little eyelights was so strong the man felt a bit relieved that laser vision wasn’t a thing bitties could do. Rick handed back the clipboard, interrupting their little staring contest. After the man reviewed it, he smiled and gave Rick a piece of paper.

“There ya go. Good luck to ya.”

Choker felt his carrier being lifted as Rick huffed, “we’ll need it.”

The carrier swung wildly again, forcing Choker to lay down with his eyes shut to suppress the oncoming wave of nausea. Despite this, he could tell they were nearing the ring. Human shouts and shrieks, booming dubstep, gaster blaster cannons, and the screams of bitties grew louder and louder as Rick walked. Yep, just another night at the ring.

The noise so suffocatingly thick Choker could hardly think straight. He clenched his jaw to keep the whimper from escaping. He’d get used to it. He had to if he was going to fight. It just took a few minutes for him to adjust. Fortunately, when Rick shoved the carrier under the metal folding seat, the noise was somewhat muffled. At least the swaying stopped. Choker took a few deep breaths then willed himself to his feet. Shuffling over to the door he looked for a distraction while he waited his turn.

Humans.

So many humans. Men and women, but mostly men. They crowded around the ring only a few feet in front of him, trampling and jostling others as they screamed and cursed at the currently fighting bitties. This used to disgust and horrify Choker. It even used to make him angry. But anger took energy, and he needed that energy for the ring. It only _slightly_ annoyed him now. 

He quickly turned his attention to the rows of chairs that circled around the crowd. Other humans were sitting down, just like Rick, with their own bitties in carriers on the floor by their feet, just like Choker. Other bitties were looking out and around like him too. Some were Sansys, most were Edgies, and he saw at least one Lil Bro.

Choker eyed the competition, judging whether they’d be easy targets or not should he get in the ring with them. 

Some of the Sansys looked fresh, their shaking eyelights darting around frantically. They’d probably dust themselves before ever stepping foot in the ring. If only the cruel universe would do him _one_ favor and let one of those be the final round opponent. But he was never that lucky. 

He moved on to the Edgies. One looked unhinged. He hung onto the carrier doors with all fours, magic dripping from his unnaturally wide grin. His shrunken eyelights said only one thing: _murder_. Choker shuddered. Hopefully he had just enough luck to avoid _that_ guy. At least the rest of the Edgies looked normal enough.

Like him, they carried battle scars from previous fights. Given how popular the Fell line is with bitty fights it didn’t surprise Choker. Though, he was slightly jealous at how well some were dressed. But as nice as the fur hoods looked he knew they could easily give the opponent an advantage. And he couldn’t help but notice that the older Edgies didn’t have one. 

Instead, their clothes were torn up like his. They were dirty. Some were even missing teeth and appendages. But their dim or nonexistent eyelights, their slumped postures, their expressions of utter _SOULessness_ \- the sight made Choker’s breath catch. 

These bitties had given up. They had come to dust. All desire to fight, to live on, to _survive_ was completely gone. 

Choker swallowed the lump of fear and looked away. Was he . . . was he gonna end up like them? Was the end of every bitty who lasted this long to eventually give up? To grow tired and stop fighting and . . . and . . . 

_  
**no**  
_

Choker’s claws balled into fists, shaking with anger.

_if they wanna roll over and just dust, then fine! i haven’t survived a whole fuckin year of this just to give up in the end. i’m gonna fight and fight until i can’t fight anymore cuz i’m dust. i may never get out of this hell but i ain’t gonna stop tryin’ my damndest-_

“Wanna bet?” a voice asked, startling Choker.

The bitty turned to see a man standing in front of Rick’s chair, his muddied boots blocking Choker’s view of the crowd. While the man couldn’t see Choker, the bitty instinctively scooted back.

“Um-no-um . . no not today,” said Rick.

The stranger walked away without another word to the next person with a bitty. When he was far enough down the line that Choker couldn’t see him anymore, he crawled back to the door. He sat there for a few more minutes, thinking about what bitty type he’d have to fight and what moves he’d use.

Suddenly, a voice boomed out of a speaker above the noise of the crowd, “and the winner is . . . Tar!”

Roars of victory and cries of despair rippled throughout the crowd. Some left to nurse their sore wallets, while others crowded around the ring even more intensely.

“Next round is Fight 13!”

“Show time,” Rick said, tossing a crumpled piece of paper to the ground. 

He picked up the carrier before Choker could get to his feet. The bitty watched the crowd scuttle away from Rick as he neared the ring. Then he saw it. A slanted pipe stuck out of the wall, just big enough for a bitty to slip through. Rick stopped, holding the carrier in front of the tube, his hand on the door’s latch. Choker stood bent over like a track runner.

Suddenly, the door swung wide open. Without hesitation Choker leapt out of the carrier and into the pipe. He slid down and out the short tube, falling a foot or two before landing with a thud onto the metal floor of the ring. He stood tall and glanced around. The ring was nothing more than a modified feeding barrel, with walls about four feet high. There was no opening save for the two slanting tubes on opposite sides of each other. It was cold, dusty, and smelled like burnt metal.

He eyed the humans above him. Their shouting was almost deafening now. They stared back at him, their bloodshot eyes greedily anticipating the oncoming fight. He wanted to give them all the finger and maybe a gaster blast for good measure, but that would just make them laugh. He didn’t want to entertain them anymore than he had to. Instead, he turned his attention to his opponent standing only a couple feet in front of him. 

The bitty wore a black and white hoodie, black gloves, black sweatpants, and black shoes. Only his white eyelights gave away his type as a Sansy bitty. That, and the laid back demeanor. He stood casually, hands in his pockets, as if he hadn’t killed a thing in his life. With one eye open, the other bitty scrutinized his new target as Choker did the same.

“Alright, the standing champion is Tar, a Sansys bitty,” the announcer boomed.

The Sansy grinned before cracking his knuckles out in front of him.

“And the new opponent is Choker, an Edgy bitty.”

Choker smirked at his name, his eyelights glowing brighter.

Suddenly, the repetitive music changed from a generic dubstep track to a remixed version of megalovania. Choker couldn’t help rolling his eyes. They always played some form of it when two sans-type bitties fought.

And it _really_ pissed Choker off.

In fact, his SOUL was churning with hot, raw anger and his magic became increasingly harder to contain. He wanted to fight. He wanted to- no, _needed_ to kill something, _anything_. A low growl rose from his throat.

“sup buddy, _tar_ ya ready to dust?” the bitty taunted with a smirk, summoning two blasters behind him. 

Red smoking magic burst from Choker’s right hand as a row of spiked bones materialised. 

“not if i _choke_ yer life out first,” he growled.

“Two bitties, only one winner-

Choker raised the sharp tips of bones. Tar’s blaster’s jaws opened wide.

-FIGHT!” 

White light accumulated in the blaster’s mouths, but the second before they fired, red bones whistled through the air and dug deep into the blaster skulls. Tar watched in shock as his blasters crumbled, then quickly looked back with a scowl. But the second he saw Choker, the little bastard disappeared.

Tar twisted around frantically. Where did he-

He heard a growl behind him, but it was too late. Before he could turn around he was knocked to his face by a blast from behind. But Tar wouldn’t go down that easily. He caught a glimpse of Choker and sent up a wave of bones, knocking the other bitty down as well.

Tar got to his feet first and sent another row of bones. This time, he missed as Choker rolled over in time. The edgy sat up and raised a fist of magic. But Tar saw nothing- no bones or blasters. It was too late when he felt his SOUL tense in the sudden grip of magic. He was flung mercilessly against the wall, earning a loud cheer from the crowd.

Tar grunted but shook off the attack better than Choker had anticipated. Oh well, no biggie. Choker had plenty more tricks up his metaphorical sleeve.

The bitty threw more bones at him, which Tar jumped to avoid. But not before one came from behind, knocking him up his head.

Tar retaliated with several blasters, which Choker was too fast for all but one. The hot blast stung but didn’t deal much damage. 

Another teleportation. Another row of bones. They missed.

More blasting. Choker attacked with his own blaster. Hit Tar right in the chest.

Suddenly his own SOUL and body were hoisted right into the air, giving Choker a face full of metal as he was slammed into the ground. 

A wall of bones protected him from another blast. When the smoke cleared, Tar saw the bitty had teleported again.

He gagged as his hoodie was yanked from behind. Before he could fight back he was body slammed into the wall.

More bones.

More blasters.

More cheers and curses from the crowd. 

Choker could tell from the song they had been fighting for at least several minutes. He sweated, feeling tired and sore from the hits to his HP. But he saw Tar was even more tired. The fight before Choker must have really given Tar a knock up. Hopefully all it would take is one more power-packed hit.

Tar coughed, obviously struggling to stand back up. Choker narrowed his eyes. Now was his chance.

The Sansy straightened, only to get flung back against the wall. He crumbled, wincing in pain. When Tar looked up at Choker, what he saw made his SOUL stop. Three blasters were zoned in on him, and a row of bones with their points aimed at his chest blocked off any openings. The bitty didn’t have the strength to teleport or use blue magic. He was trapped.

Choker glowered, his hand raised to strike. 

“i’d hate _tibia_ ya right now-”

The blasters fired; the bones diving after their beam.

**-sorry."**

The crowd hushed slightly for a moment. When the blast cleared, a tiny white soul hovered in the air a few seconds before shattering. Suddenly the crowd began shouting even louder. It seems quite a few had betted on Tar and they were screaming curses, demanding their money back. Those who had betted on Choker were laughing.

The lone bitty scooted to the other side of the ring as the humans shoved a hose into the ring to vaccum up the dust. Leaning against the wall for support, Choker focused on taking in slow, deep breaths. 

Another fight won. He had lost track of how many he had tallied up. 

Not that it mattered to him. They were all the same. 

And he always felt numb after each one. Well, not _always_. He'd felt an insane amount of guilt those first few fights. It was so overwhelming, he couldn’t bear it. So he made himself get angry instead. Angry at the disgusting humans for making him and other bitties fight. But staying angry after fighting was _exhausting._

So now he felt nothing. He didn’t like what he was doing, but it didn’t _matter_ how he felt about it- there was nothing he could do to change it. 

“And the winner is . . . Choker! Next round is fight 14!” The voice boomed again.

Choker stood back up, wiping the sweat from his face with his shirt. Time for another fight. He had only taken a few damaging hits to his HP. As long as the next bitty was a match for him, he would have good luck defeating him. And good luck is what he’d need to make it to the final round. 

So the fighting continued.

The next bitty was a Lil bro. Usually tougher to beat, but this one had lost an eye. Choker had to dodge a lot of blasters, but one bone to the one good eye took him out.

Another edgy came next. He was younger looking than Choker- this was probably one of his first fights. Choker couldn’t over power him, but he _did_ outsmart him. 

His fourth opponent was one of the shivering Sansy’s. Choker did feel just the _teeniest_ bit of remorse for dusting him so quickly. But he wasn’t sure if it was for the Sansy’s sake or because the bitty didn’t give him much of a fight. 

As the humans cleaned up the floor again, Choker checked his HP. The bar was a little less than half full. Not ideal, but he could manage. 

“The winner is once again Choker! Place your bets folks, the next one is the final round,” the announcer boomed.

Choker grinned with relief. He had made it! Just one more fight, then it would be over. He could win it. Then Rick wouldn’t be mad anymore. Maybe he’d even get the fast food he mentioned. Then he could go back to his cage and sleep. Ah . . . sleep. That sounded really good right about-

The sound of scraping metal distracted Choker, causing him to look over his shoulder at the other pipe. The skeleton bitty fell out with a thud, quickly drawing up to its full height. Choker’s SOUL froze with icy fear.

“The standing champion is Choker, an Edgy bitty,” the voice yelled, though Choker hardly heard him.

The skeleton opposite him glared down at Choker. 

“And the new opponent is Dagger, a **Boss bitty.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you were expecting that? 
> 
> This chapter was the hardest one to write so far, but it had to be done. I know bitty fighting isn't usually what people read Bitty stories for, but I started this fic with the spotlight on it for a reason. That being, I wanted to contrast Choker's grimmer life with his upcoming happier one. 
> 
> And don't worry, next chapter will be slightly less of a depressing one!


	4. And Into the Fire

Choker stepped back, his eye sockets hollow as he stared at the bitty before him.

He had fought a Boss only once before. The fell-type papyrus bitties weren’t the most powerful- those were the Lil Bros- but they _were_ the most durable. It would take several good hits just to inflict any damage to their HP. Choker had gotten lucky with the one he’d fought- the poor bastard was dangerously close to dusting. Still, Choker only won by the skin of his sharp teeth. 

And the glowring bitty before him looked fresh as a daisy. He wasn’t even dusty. This was probably his first fight of the night, which meant he had a full HP bar. And judging from the faint but obvious scars on his femurs and skull, he was experienced in bitty fighting, so outsmarting him wasn’t really an option. 

Choker tugged at his collar, trying desperately not to hyperventilate as the panic set in. 

“Two bitties, only one winner-

He looked up to see the boss bitty summon a row of _much_ bigger bones around him. Dagger chuckled at Choker’s quivering eyelights returned. Choker grimaced at the boss's smug smile.

 _shit_

There was one unspoken rule in bitty fighting- _never let them see your fear_. It made you seem weak and could cost a bitty his life. But seeing how Choker didn’t have much hope surviving this fight in the first place, it didn’t matter really matter in the end. 

Choker swallowed his fear and growled, summoning his own row of bones. Sure, he was scared. Sure, he hadn’t the slightest chance of winning. 

**But that wouldn’t stop him from trying his damndest.**

“-FIGHT!”

The rows of bones whizzed past their summoners, driving hard into the opposite walls of the ring as the bitties doged them. Choker watched and waited for Dagger to make his move first. The boss bitty attacks with several blasters. Choker decides to teleport and he reappears on top of his own blaster. But before he can fire it, Dagger sees and throws a thick bone at Choker, knocking him off. He gets to his feet and realises the boss is running at him. He quickly summons a wall of bones but the bigger bitty smashes right through it. It deals some damage to him, but Dagger shakes it off and keeps running.

Choker groans. This is why he prefers fighting sans-type bitties. It’s all long range attacks for the most part. But the Paps and Lil bros like to get all close and personal- probably cuz they’re physically stronger. He waits until the boss is a few inches from him before he teleports. He reappears behind the boss, coughing from the strain. Dagger whips around, but not before getting several blasts to the face and knocked to the floor. Choker takes a moment to breathe as the boss stands up. The two stare at each other. 

“TIRED ALREADY?” Dagger said, smirking. 

Choker growled in response, raising his fist to summon more bones but was stopped short. 

Before he could react, he was thrown into the wall with a soul attack. He huffed and tried standing back up, only to find he couldn’t. The magical pressure on his SOUL was keeping him pinned to the wall. Most bitties let go of the SOUL after a blue attack, since maintaining the grip was a risky use of magic. But when Choker looked over at Dagger, the bitty didn’t seem to be struggling at all. Instead, the skeleton was marching towards him with an annoyed scowl. 

“l-let me go you _fucker!_ ” Choker screamed, recklessly tossing a wave of bones. 

Dagger continued walking undeterred. Summoning a small blaster he cleared a path for himself. The skeleton bitty rolled his eyelights.

“IT'S OVER. GIVE IT UP ALREADY.”

Choker gulped, raising his fist in an attempt to fire a blaster or two. Dagger noticed and frowned, materialising a sharp-tipped bone.

It whizzed through the air. Choker’s magic sputtered out as his right arm was forced back against the wall with a **crack.**

_gyaaaaahhhhh!!!_

Gasping in pain, he winced as he saw the red bone sticking out of his arm, red magic dripping from the wound. Fortunately, the adrenaline and fear numbed the pain somewhat. He grabbed the bone with his good hand and with his remaining strength he ripped it out. The bone fell and shattered into pieces. Choker cradled his arm against his chest and looked up.

Dagger towered over him with a _very_ pissed expression.

Suddenly, the pressure on his SOUL dissipated. Before Choker could consider teleporting (which would be risky at best with his injury) or rolling away, the bitty grabbed his collar and yanked him into the air. Choker hissed, grasping at his collar. He squirmed and kicked at the other bitty with all his might.

“y-you bas -cough- tard! lemme go-o!” 

If he was gonna dust, he was gonna dust kicking and screaming. 

Dagger only looked more pissed. He groaned, frustrated. 

“PATHETIC,” he said, another bone appearing in his free hand. He raised the tip of it above his head, aiming it directly at Choker’s cracked skull.

The bitty’s eyelights wavered. He shut his eyes tight. 

He was gonna dust he was gonna dust hewasgonnadUSTHEWASGONNADUSTHE-

He . . .

. . . was fine? 

Well, he wasn’t _fine_ , but he wasn’t _dust_ either. Why wasn’t he dust?

He opened one eye, then the other. He stared wide-eyed at the bitty holding him.

Dagger was still holding the bone, but his arm was limp. He wasn’t even looking at Choker anymore. His attention was focused solely on the humans above. Choker followed Dagger’s example and looked up as well. The spectacle shocked him even more.

The humans weren’t crowded around the ring, cheering and jeering. Instead, they were running around in a panic, trampling each other as they fought to run away from . . . something. They all looked scared and mad. And there was no music. Why had it stopped?

Suddenly, Choker saw a hand reach over the wall and head straight for the bitties. It grabbed Dagger’s waist from behind before said bitty could notice it. It picked him up and the Boss bitty dropped Choker in favor of hitting and biting the hand. Choker fell to his feet and stumbled backwards. He huddled against the wall, his legs pulled up to his chest to protect his injured arm. Looking out of the ring, he waited for the hand to come back for him. But it didn’t.

He watched the humans continue to frantically run around, completely ignoring him. What was going on? Why were they running? And where was Rick!? He . . he wouldn’t just leave him here . . . _right?_

But as he looked out of the ring, he didn’t see Rick among the humans. He couldn’t even hear his voice amidst the shouts. He was gone. He left Choker. He probably figured he was dust. But he wasn’t! Dagger . . he was gone. The fighting had stopped. Why was Dagger taken? Why was he left in the ring? What was happening!?

What would happen to _him?_

As soon as the panicked thought crossed his mind, he felt a hand grab his waist. He yelped in pain and surprise as he was lifted into the air. Instinctively he bit down on the closest finger. He realised the human wasn’t wearing gloves when his teeth bit effortlessly into the soft flesh. He let go, surprised.

The human was surprised too, and shook it’s hand violently in pain, dropping Choker in the process. The bitty fell only a few feet before landing hard onto one of the metal folding chairs. He was on his feet in an instant, looking up at his attacker. The human gripped it’s bleeding hand, looking around for him. It froze when it saw Choker. The moment their eyes met, Choker could only think one thing. **Run.**

He jumped off the chair before he could stop himself. He landed on the concrete floor without a scratch. The human behind him was screaming at him to stop. 

_**RUN!**_

Scampering along the floor, Choker barely dodged stomping boots and scooting chairs. Ahead of him he saw piles of boxes, old boards, chairs, and other dusty items stacked against the brick wall. Not daring to glance behind him, Choker desperately dashed towards it. He could lose the human by diving into one of the small spaces in the junk. He would be safe. He had to keep running. He had to- 

“Gotcha!” a dangerously close voice yelled. Choker yelped as something brushed his back, but it didn’t grab him. The human had misjudged the distance and missed him by an inch as it dove at the floor. Choker could see a tarp only a foot away, the folds beckoning him to come hide in them. He took his chance and with one last burst of energy, he dove head first under the dusty fabric. _ow . . ._ Ok, maybe that wasn't the best move. But he'd made it! Crawling as far back under it as he could, he laid perfectly still, hoping the human couldn’t see his heaving chest under the tarp. Above his ragged breathing, he could hear the muffled noise continue. Among them he heard his pursuer shout above him. 

“Come out you little-” 

“DAREN! Come'ere and help me with this one!” 

“But I . . . _ugh_ , fine, coming!” 

The concrete boomed as human stomped away from the tarp. When Choker couldn't hear him anymore, he relaxed a little. Curling in on himself, he tried to keep his bones ratteling but failed. His SOUL was humming out of control in his chest. His HP was dangerously low. The only comfort was the darkness. It was cool. It was _safe_. He wanted to sleep but the pain wouldn't let him. Besides, he needed to stay awake until the humans left. 

Speaking of the humans, their shouting had died down now. However, he could still make out faint voices and the sound of metal scraping the floor. It wasn’t safe yet, but Choker’s curiosity got the better of his fear. He gingerly crawled to the edge of the tarp. Peering out, he saw several humans in matching clothing standing around. But aside from them, the room was completely empty. It felt so surreal- like one of his nightmares. 

One of the humans suddenly turned in his direction and he darted back under the tarp. He lay frozen, but when he didn’t hear any footsteps, he looked back to see they went back to talking with another human. No one paid his hiding place a second glance. Despite this, Choker felt exposed. His tarp wasn't as safe as he thought. 

Grunting, he crawled into the room. He stood a second to adjust to the bright light before scurrying over to the pile of boxes. He walked around them, looking for one on it’s side that he could crawl into. Finally, he found one that was closed shut, but had a hole chewed into one of the walls. Forcing himself through it, he tripped over a pile of rope and fell into an oversized apron. It wasn’t soft, but it was better than the floor. He crawled on top and nestled into the thick material. 

The pain and exhaustion were really getting to him now that the adrenaline had faded. Surely he was safer now. It wasn't as cool as the floor had been, but the darkness was still comforting. He could just take a nap and then wake up when all the humans were gone for good. After all, it was the best thing he could do in his condition to raise his HP anyway. 

Yeah . . . just one nap . . . couldn’t hurt . . . 

___________________________________________________________________ 

“What about the boxes?” he asked, scratching under his hat. The other police officer looked over at said pile, tapping his chin with his pen.

“It’s probably best to bring them to the station. There could be drugs in them. We can go through them with the proper equipment there,” he said finally. 

The first officer motioned to one of the men before turning back to his superior. "Where should I put ‘em?” 

“The van’s fine." 

“Uh, is that a good idea? The latch issue still isn’t fixed.” 

“Don’t worry, it won’t be a problem. ‘Sides, I don’t see how we can fit all these in the back with our current passengers.” 

“True. Alright then- Jeff, come on and help me load these.” 

The rookie jogged over at the command and began assisting the officer. Between the two they had the police van loaded within a few minutes. Despite the jostling treatment from the men, Choker never once stirred awake. Even when the engine roared to life- all he did was roll over in his sleep. 

___________________________________________________________________ 

Grabbing his cold coffee from the cupholder, the slumped over driver slurped it down. It was bitter and icy, but he was too tired to care. He hated late night shifts. It didn't help him that he had a long day at the desk. He set his coffee back, flipping on his turn signal he let out a loud yawn. 

All he wanted was to get home to his wife and- 

**_**BEEP** _ **

“AAH!” The man shrieked as a vehicle zoomed toward him. 

He slammed on his brakes, turning the wheel sharply to avoid a head-on collision. The van swerved and lurched, the boxes in the back bouncing as it did so. The door of the back popped open, but the driver didn’t notice. He was too pissed at the moment. Muttering curses under his breath, the man kept heading towards the station, determined to go home the moment he arrived. 

He never looked back, driving right past the boxes that had flung out of the vehicle onto the street. 

___________________________________________________________________ 

Your teeth chattered uncontrollably despite cupping your hands against your mouth. The thick coat and fur-lined scarf did little to help shield you from the freezing wind. Your unfortunate head and wildly blowing hair took the brunt of the weather. Even your feet were cold as the storm’s icy breath slipped past your shoes and socks right down to your bones. 

Winter.

You _hated_ it.

The short, cloudy days. The constant threat of cold and snow. The depressing atmosphere of the bleak month named January. Late, freezing nights like these always made you think moving back to Florida with your parents. But it was only ever a thought. Still, maybe a visit couldn’t hurt. 

You lifted your eyes and saw the parking lot up ahead through the sleet coming down. The car! It wouldn’t be warm but at least it’d be dryer. You were so ready to get home. Quickening your pace, you hurried down the sidewalk, eyes firmly fixed on the lot as you. The jogging warmed your blood a little. You started to run, your cheeks flushed from the stinging sleet. But you didn’t care. You ran, faster and faster and-

“Oof!” you gasped.

Your leg hit something and you were losing your balance. Throwing your arms out frantically, you managed to steady yourself. After taking a moment to catch your breath (both from running and the sudden shock of falling), you looked back at what you tripped over.

_please don’t be a homeless man, please don’t be a-_

It was a box. 

Your running had knocked it on it’s side and the flaps had popped open. Somehow you managed to miss seeing it in your impatience to get to the car. But you forgot all about the car now as you curiously peered down into the box. You didn’t know why, but you had a feeling like . . . something was off.

The street light up ahead barely illuminated the contents of the box, but it was just enough for you to make out what was in it. There was an old straw rope curled in one corner, while the rest of the box was taken up by some navy blue cloth. It was nothing but old stuff?

No.

No, there was something _else_. 

You took a step closer, bending down. Then you saw it. 

Huddled in the folds of the strange cloth was a creature. You lifted the flap to get a better look, praying it wasn’t dead or at least wasn’t going to attack you and give you rabies or something. But then you saw the tattered clothing surronding the tiny body, exposing it's white, cracked bones. 

It was a bitty! 

You had seen them advertised on TV. You had even seen a few in person when people came into your workplace with the little skeletons on their shoulders. You didn’t remember much about them but you had learned to recognize the types fairly well by now. But the bitty below wasn’t wearing anything familiar and with its eyes shut tight you couldn’t judge from its eye color. 

But you didn’t need to know it’s type to recognize a creature in trouble. Your heart broke as you watched the huddled creature shiver and whimper in its troubled sleep. Even in the dim light you could see he was dirty and his arm looked hurt. Your bleeding heart screamed at you to help him. 

Help him how? The only bitty center you knew was in the city, at least an hours drive. Surely it wouldn’t be open this late at night. So should you just pick him off the streets and take him home with you? That didn't seem like a good idea. You'd heard street bitties weren't exacty _friendly_ towards humans. What if he attacked you in your sleep? What if you couldn’t help him? What if he _died_ -

A gust of wind blew past you, causing you to shiver. The bitty shuddered as well, curling up tighter.

Alright, screw it. 

You were tired and cold, and the bitty was hurt and cold. You didn’t care what happened, you couldn’t leave another defenseless creature out in a storm like this. You were gonna take him home and help him, no matter the consequences. 

Adjusting your purse you bent down and picked up the box. You lifted it, careful to keep it in the same side position so as to not move the bitty. Slowly, you made your way to your car, keeping the open side of the box close to your chest and away from the storm. Finally, you made it your white little altima. 

Placing the box on the ground, you unlock the car, open the passenger door. After placing it in the seat, you sigh with relief to see the bitty hadn’t rolled away from his spot during the process. In fact, His shivering had died down a little now that he was out of the storm. He looked almost peaceful as he slept. 

You had only known this bitty for two minutes, but already you had to physically restrain yourself from rubbing his cute little head. But you had to. You couldn’t risk waking him up before you got him safely home. Slipping behind the wheel, you grasped it tightly, it’s cold surface stinging your fingers. But for once you don’t care. Your heart is pounding with with anxiety and excitment.

Glancing over at him you smile and whisper, “Don’t worry little guy, it’s gonna be ok.”

“You’re gonna be ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Choker has escaped!
> 
> Sure, he's injured, but I'm sure he'll be _fine . . ._
> 
> Anyway, I hope this chapter isn't too long for you guys. I didn't want to leave it on a down note like the previous one so I stretched it a bit to fit the readers introduction in. Also, this is my very first time writting in second person you/reader form, so please excuse my amatuer attempt at this.


	5. Reader, meet Edgy. Edgy, meet Reader.

“Don’t worry Edgy, you’ll do fine.”

The bitty looked up at the woman. Her smile and words were reassuring, but he didn’t feel reassured. In fact, he was more nerve-wrecked than he had ever been in his entire _life_ now that it was finally happening. But he wasn’t gonna let her know that.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “tsk, ’m not worried. i ain’t got nothin’ ta worry about.”

“You’re right about that,” she chuckled, opening the door with her free hand. 

They entered a small room the size of a janitor's closet. A chair, a metal table, and some charts on the walls were the only items in the room. The room was illuminated by single ceiling light. To a human it might feel claustrophobic, but Edgy was used to small spaces. She walked over to the table, holding out the palm with the bitty sitting cross-legged on top. He got the idea and shortcutted the few inches over to it. He turned around before sitting down, swinging his feet over the edge. 

The woman in scrubs patted his head, saying, “alright, he’ll be here in just a minute, ok?”

Edgy didn't say anything as he watched her leave. The moment the door clicked shut his casual smile faltered. He fidgeted with the hem of his plain red t-shirt, trying not to sweat. He wasn’t nervous, he was just . . . bored.

The door clicked open, causing the bitty to jump. He quickly regained his cool though and leaned back on his hands. If the glasses-wearing man in a lab coat entering had noticed the shift in Edgy’s demeanor, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he sat in the plastic chair, scooting it closer to the table. Pulling the pen from behind his ear, he smiled down at the bitty. 

“And which Edgy are you?” he asked kindly.

The bitty smirked as he said, “236. surprised ya haven’t heard’a me.”

The man chuckled. “Well, I do see quite a lot of Edgies.”

He scribbled something on the chart in his other hand. Looking back at the bitty, he said, “So this little exam has two parts: a physical and a questionnaire. Don’t worry, it won’t be difficult for you I’m sure. Let’s start with the physical, shall we?”

236 stood up, his sweaty hands in his pockets. “ready whenever ya’ are.”

“Ok then, could you please bring out your soul for me?”

The bitty did as was requested and produced a shining white soul for the man. He grinned proudly, hoping it would impress the human. The man wore his usual professional smile and wrote something down. 

“Great, looks good. Now, could you show me your attacks?”

Putting his soul away, the bitty summoned several bones and two gaster blasters effortlessly. 

“Wonderful,” he said, writing again. “Now, please teleport-”

“-here?” the bitty asked smugly as he appeared at the foot of the door. Just as the man turned around, the bitty zipped up to the light fixture.

“or up here?” The man looked, but the bitty was gone. He felt something land on his shoulder.

“or right here?” The bitty asked, finally staying put. He so proud of himself that the man couldn’t help grinning.

“Impressive. Your teleportation skills are well honed for an Edgy. Please, if you would,” he said, gesturing towards the table.

Edgy 236 teleported back and faced him, practically glowing at the praise. The man continued the physical, examining his claws ans teeth as well as his eyelights. Once that was over, the man made a few more notes before he said, “alright Edgy, you did great. Now we’ll move on to the questionnaire.”

Reading the chart he continued, “So, we’ll start with a simple one: what’s your favorite food?”

“easy, anythin’ covered in mustard. it’s the only good tastin’ thing here, no offence.”

“None taken. Second question: what do you want more than anything?”

The Edgy blushed a little, scratching his skull. “besides mustard n’ naps, ah well, guess it would be a human to . . . ya know, hang out wit’.”

The man nodded. “And do you plan on biting said human?” 

“hell no!,” Edgy exclaimed. “i mean, i might bite if someone attacked me or the human, but i wouldn’t bite . . . ya know . . . _my_ human.”

“Ok. What about the swearing?”

The bitty shrugged. “eh i’ll do mah best, but uh, no promises.”

The man smiled, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

He wrote something down then continued to ask more questions. There were only a couple more. Most were about humans, how he felt about them, and what he would do in certain scenarios. The rest were about his preferences, puns, sleeping habits, etc. The Edgy answered like any other Edgy would. After a few minutes, the man went quiet and wrote some more on the chart.

Then, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he smiled. “Well, Edgy 236, I do believe we have a transport container with your number on it.” 

Edgy’s eyelights dilated to fill nearly his entire sockets. "really?”

The man smiled wider. He never got tired of seeing these cute little bitties light up at the fact they had passed. It made his job worth the scanty pay.

“Of course,” he said, standing up. “I’ll be sure to have them bring it in right now.”

Edgy watched him walk out the door, squealing with delight the moment it shut. It wasn’t very “edgy” of him, but he didn’t care. He was just so damn happy he’d passed! Within a minute, the lady in scrubs walked inside the room again, this time with a large container in her arms. She set it on the table beside him and popped the lid off. 

“Congrats little Edgy! You ready to go to the adoption center?” she asked, holding out her hand. 

“heh, if ya insist,” he said, trying to keep his casual persona, while in reality is SOUL was humming with excitment. He jumped into her palm and knelt until her hand was over the container. Then he leapt down, landing on a soft pillow with an already warm heating pad inside. 

“Alright then, I’ll take you to the loading truck right now. You just get comfy and take a nice, long nap, ok?” she said, snapping the lid in place. 

There was a ring of air holes at the top letting in some light, but it was mostly dark. Not that it bothered Edgy 236. He was too happy at the moment to be bothered by anything. He had done it! He had passed the final step and now he was on his way to the adoption center with the other bitties. 

He was going to get his very own home. He’d get to eat _good_ food, not health food slathered in mustard. He was going to try it all: pizza, hamburgers, cake, cheetos! And the clothes he’d get to wear- at this point he’ll take anything, but he really wanted one of those cool spiked jackets. 

But what excited him the most was the thought of his very own human. A human who would love and take care of him, and who _he_ would love and protect and annoy to bits. A human he could sleep with at night. Sleeping with the other bitties had been fine, but human SOULS were even better (at least, that's what he's been told). 

Edgy nestled into the pillow, unashamed of the rumblings purrs emitting from his throat. He stretched out, warmed by the heating pad and the thoughts of his bright future. Eventually, the heat lulled the lazy skeleton to sleep as he lay on the soft, comfy cushion.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

so . . . soft. . .

. . . so . . . warm . . .

The fabric between his phalanges felt so comfortable. He nuzzled his face into it, inhaling deeply. He didn’t recognize the smell. But it was nice. It didn’t smell like . . . like . . .

. . wait . . 

He cracked his eye sockets open slightly.

It was still dark but . . . was that a faint glow of light above him? Why was there light? Had the transport truck finally arrived at the adoption cen-

**pain**

The bitty winced. His arm . . . it felt like it was on fire! And . . and he felt so _weak._ Why? Why was his arm hurting? _What was going on!?_

His sockets snapped open as he shot up in panic. The movement caused his arm to sting even more. He held it out looking for the source of the pain. He found a large, brown cloth had been wrapped unevenly around his radius. He pulled at it, but it was stuck to him and it only made him hiss in pain even more. Wait . . . were those cracks running down his bone?

The bitty blinked, then gasped as it all came rushing back.

_The fight._

_Dagger._

_Getting hurt._

_Running away._

_Hiding._

_Falling asleep._

_He had been hiding in a box when he fell asleep!_

Choker glanced around. 

Even in the dim light he could tell he wasn’t in a dark cardboard box anymore. Instead, he was sitting on some sort of blanket inside of a deep plastic tub. It’s walls were slippery and steep- there was no way he could climb out. He looked above him. There was no lid, which he was silently thankful for, but he couldn’t see anything besides the popcorn ceiling over him. 

His breathing quickened.

How had he got here? Where or what even WAS _here?_ He didn’t remember crawling into this tub. Had . . . had someone or something put him in here? How was he going to get out? What was going-

“Hello?” 

The voice was timid and gentle, but unmistakably _human._

Choker didn’t answer. He didn’t dare breathe. He considered pretending to be asleep, but he needed to stay alert if there really was a human present. After a moment of pure silence, there was a squeaking noise, followed by the low rumble of footsteps. Choker’s SOUL sank as he saw the light above grow dimmer as the steps grew louder. 

He couldn’t teleport. He couldn’t run. He was **trapped.**

**Reader POV**

You slowly step towards the tub, hoping you won’t startle the little guy if he’s still asleep. But since you could swear you heard noises coming from it, you had a feeling he was awake. Not ideal but you could manage. It’s not like you had a choice. No turning back now. You get down on your hands and knees and crawl the last few feet on the carpet. Peering over the edge of the tub so that only your anxious eyes are visible, you take in the sight.

The bitty is awake alright. He’s on his back, propping himself up with his good arm and cradling the injured one to his chest. His knees are pulled up to his chest as well, his tiny feet curled into the blanket. The red eyelight things are tiny, shaking pinpricks. Well, at least now you know for sure he’s an Edgy as you assumed from the sharp teeth. Your brow is creased with worry, but as you lift your head over the tub’s rim you try to give the trembling skeleton a reassuring smile. 

“Hey little guy,” you say softly, gaging his reaction.

Only he doesn't. Oh well, it could be worse. You continue, choosing your words carefully.

“I understand you’re scared. I would be too, if I woke up in a strange new place. But you don’t need to be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise! You’re safe now, it’s . . . it’s going to be ok . . .”

You tried to sound calm, but you were growing more nervous by the second. He shrunk away from you like a cornered animal. Had you said something wrong? Had you not said enough? You’d spoken to an Edgy before at work, but this one wasn't acting anything like him. What were you supposed to do?

Unsure of what to say next and fearful of making things worse, you decided to smile and wait for him to respond. A few seconds passed. Slowly, the Edgy’s deer-in-the-headlights look morphed from fear to one of wary confusion. He looked just as nervous as you- maybe more. Your own anxiety was diluted by a wave of pity and compassion for the poor guy.

Suddenly, he opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it with a snap. 

You cocked your head a little. “Did . . . you wanna ask me something?” you guessed. When he didn’t respond you added, “It’s ok, you can talk to me.”

He’s eyelights stopped quivering as he stared up, but his face remained twisted with uncertainty. He inhaled sharply, holding his breath, before shakily exhaling.

“i . . . w-where a-a-am i-i . . .” he croaked

Your heart broke for the second time that night. He was so scared to ask such a simple question. You smiled more earnestly as you explained.

“You’re in my apartment- well, you’re in my bedroom more specifically. Don’t worry, I live alone here. You’re safe now. I uh, I found you in a box on the street. You looked hurt and it was freezing and snowing and I couldn’t just leave you there so I thought it would be best to bring you home with me where it was safe and warmer, so I put some pillows and blankets in my storage tub to make a bed for you, and I tried not to disturb your sleeping but it looks like I did and I’m so sorry I . . I . . . I’m rambling now aren’t I?”

You scratched your collarbone and chuckled slightly, “ah, sorry ‘bout that. I- um . . . d-do you have another question?”

The bitty looks even more confused now. He tries to sit up more, but the action jostles his arm a bit. He grimaces in pain he’s obviously trying to hide. You look worried once again.

“Are you ok? You’re arm . . . does it hurt?” _Duh, sherlock! What kind of question was that?_

He doesn’t respond and instead focuses on adjusting his arm more comfortably. 

“I uh . . I didn’t know what to do with your wound, so I just wrapped a bandaid around it. I hope that’s ok . . .” you say awkwardly.

The bitty freezes at your revelation as his eyelights disappear. 

You panic and grip the rim of the tub.“Hey! What’s wrong!? Are you ok? Are you-”

“ ‘m fine,” he mumbled, looking at the blanket under him. 

“Oh . . ok then,” you say, even though you don't believe him for a second. Pushing him right now is clearly not a good idea.

You wait for him to talk again, only to be met with more silence. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “So . . um . . do you- are you ok? Like, do you have an owner, or somewhere to live, or are you like . . . homeless?”

He doesn’t answer.

“H-hey look, I’m just trying to help you, honest.”

Nothing. 

You sigh.

It’s almost 1 in the morning. You’re tired. _Really_ tired. You want to help him but you aren't exactly in the best state to do so right now. If he didn't want to talk, that was fine- the answers could wait until you had 7 hours of sleep and a cup of tea. You yawn, rubbing your dry eyes with one hand.

“Ok, look, if you don’t wanna talk right now, that’s fine. We can talk in the morning. Do you think you’ll be able to sleep until then?” you ask.

The bitty turns to you, wide eyed and . . . in shock? It only lasts a second before he submissively shakes his head yes. Hurrah, a response! You smile, grateful the bitty has agreed to sleep. 

“Great! Ok then . . um, do you need anything before I go to bed myself? I can get you some more blankets if you want.”

He declines your offer with a shake of his head.

Thats when you notice he’s still wearing his spiked collar. Gee, it looks so uncomfortable. Surely he won’t want to sleep with it still on him. Without hesitation you reach your hand down into the tub with the palm face up to receive the collar.

“Here, your collar looks uncomfy. You can hand it to me and I’ll-”

“ _g-get the f-f-uck awa-ay f-rom m-me!”_ the bitty shrieks, scooting frantically away as best he could with his injury. 

You pull your hand back and hold it like it was bitten. The Edgy pushed himself to the wall of the tub and cowered away from you. His whole body was shaking now, his tiny bones making a ratteling sound. 

_Crap._

You scoot away from the tub. “S-sorry little guy, I-I didn’t mean to scare you! I wasn’t going to touch you, I promise! I was just offering to take your collar if you didn’t want to wear it while you slept! I’m so sorry, really. P-please, it’s ok, you’re ok! I’m not going to hurt you.”

Your vision begins to blur as your throat tightens. Crap! Why did you do that? You knew he was scared of you! Why weren’t you thinking? You’re tired, you don’t think straight when you’re tired. Yeah well now he’s scared and you’re getting emotional. Do something before you make it worse with your water works!

You stand up, causing the bitty to flinch. Your lip trembles as you mumble, “I’ll be right back . . .”

Darting out of your room, you head for the bathroom. Your tears flow freely now. Geez, get a grip Y/N! You’re not the one injured and trapped in a stranger’s house! So stop beating yourself up over a stupid mistake and help calm the poor thing.

You reach for a towel and wipe your tears until you manage to stop them from pouring out. Looking in the mirror, your face is still red and puffy, but you're too tired to care. Grabbing a dry towel from the linen closet you head back to the room. Hopefully the bitty had calmed down while you were gone.

“Hey, I’m back,” you softly whisper as you approach the tub. You hear a whimper. Ok, guess not.

Looking down you see the bitty has curled himself into one of the corners. He still looks terrified, and he shivers even more when he catches you looking at him. Why? Why was he so scared? You faintly smile and chuckle, hoping to ease the tension.

“Sorry, I know I look like crap right now. I just needed a minute. I hope you’re ok. I brought something for you.”

You lift up the towel for the bitty to see, but he tenses, shutting his eyes. You continue to hold it up silently until the bitty takes a peek. He sees the towel and looks slightly less fearful but still to scared to move.

“It’s for privacy,” you explain, “I’m going to drape this over the top of the tub so that you won’t feel so exposed while you sleep. I want you to feel safe, little guy. I hope this will help.” 

You begin to drape it over, adding, “and I won’t invade your tub when this towel is over it either, I promise.”

You take one last glimpse at the bitty. He’s uncurled now, laying perfectly still with wide and confused eyes. You give him a warm smile, hoping that would help him rest easy.

You pull the towel the rest of the way. “Goodnight little guy, sleep well.”

You stand up and quietly walk over to your bed. Crawling under the covers at last, you reach over to your nightstand and flick the lamp off. Darkness fills the room as you slowly let out a sigh. You felt exhausted: physically, mentally, and emotionally. Your hazy mind bombarded you with a thousand doubts and hopes and reminders, but you tuned it all out. You could deal with your problems in the morning. Turning on your side, you succumb at last to sleep.

**Choker POV**

Several seconds passed. Then a minute. Everything remained dark and silent. 

Choker coughed.

Nothing.

Were . . . were you really asleep? Had you really left him in this comfortable, warm tub and trusted him to _stay_ in it? You weren't going to lock him up in a cage and prevent him from escaping? It's not like he _could_ escape from the tub. He couldn’t climb the walls or move the blankets or summon bones for a makeshift ladder- not with his injury. No, he was stuck in here until either you picked him up or he found a new way to climb out. 

But _you_ didn’t know that. Right? 

Choker felt more lost and confused than he had before. Nothing you did made any sense. 

You said you took him into your home. Why? 

You gave him a place to sleep and it was _nice_. Why? 

You didn’t grab him or manhandle him, and you even got upset at _yourself_ when _he_ yelled at you. _WHY?_

He was so sure he was a goner when you left. He was so sure you’d return with something to muzzle him or were gonna put him in a cage. He didn’t mean to curse at you- he couldn’t help it! So he hid in the corner, hoping whatever punishment you had planned wouldn’t be unbearable. 

Then he saw your tear-stained face. He saw the towel. A towel you had gotten so he could have _privacy_.

He gripped the blanket tighter in his fists. 

_**WHY?**_

He sniffled. Shutting his eyes, he tried preventing the stinging tears from rolling out. But it no use and they began dripping down anyway 

Shoving his face into the blanket to muffle the sound, he began sobbing and sniveling. Everything- the fight, almost dusting, escaping, getting taken in by this dumb, stupid, idiot- it was _overwhelming._ It had been so long since he cried, he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He cried and cried until it hurt to do so. Then, flopping onto his side, he curled into a ball and rattled quietly. He hiccuped and gasped for air, trying to calm himself. 

His arm hurt, his head hurt, his SOUL hurt. Everything hurt. But slowly, exhaustion began to numb the pain. 

Finally, no more tears came. His breathing slowed. His thinking slowed. 

And he fell into a restless, dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's dreaming again. I would say it's better than the nightmares he's used to, but is it really? 
> 
> This chapter is the most emotionally charged one yet in my opinoin. Everyone is a crying mess (albiet for different reasons) in this one. Poor Choker. At least he's having his inevitable breakdown in the solace of the darkness. I'm sure he'll handle things better in the morning.
> 
> (also, thank you guys for your recent comments and kuddos! Your support is really encourging and motivates me to work more on this little project. So thank you! :3 )


	6. Let's Try This Again

Morning light stealthily slips between the cracks in your blinds. Not warm, yellow sunshine, but cool white rays of light as bleak as the icy ground outside. You scooch farther under the comfy covers to hide away from them. It was Friday which meant sleeping in, and after staying up so late, leaving your bed was the last thing you wanted to do. Besides, it’s not like you had a reason to get up so early.

wait. . . 

_THE BITTY!_

You rip the covers from your head and wrench your eyes open. Once they adjust to the dim light, you look frantically over at the tub across the room. The towel is still draped over the top how you left it, and there was no sound or movement. But for all you knew the bitty could’ve left the tub or . . or **worse.**

Knowing your paranoia wouldn’t let you go back to sleep without checking on him, you sigh and shove yourself off the bed. Tiptoeing across the chilly carpet, you kneel down beside the storage tub. You said you wouldn’t invade his privacy, but you reason that just lifting the towel a _little_ bit to see if he’s alright is for the best. Timidly, you do just that.

The bitty is curled in the corner still, his tiny chest rhythmically rising and falling. All traces of fear and pain were gone from his face. He looked downright _adorable_ , even with his crude facial scars. If he’s able to sleep so peacefully despite his injury, then you’re sure the little guy will be just fine. You lower the towel back gently and stand up. 

Picking your phone up from the nightstand, you check the time. It’s a quarter past eight. You pause, debating whether you still had time to sleep more. But you knew that wasn’t the responsible thing to do. Not to mention you were much too awake now for you to easily fall asleep again. You decide to start getting ready, making your bed first thing like always. 

Heading to the dresser, you ditch your pjs for your favorite burgundy hoodie and baggy black sweatpants. You grab a brush and enter a death match with your matted curls. You win, but not without losing the lives of a few nerve endings. Quietly you step over the bitty’s tub to get to the window and raise the blinds. It’s not a cheery sight, but every bit of light helps. Grabbing your phone you head for the door, closing it oh-so-slowly behind you before walking to the bathroom.

**Choker's POV**

None of the human’s noises disturbed Choker’s sleep- not even the sudden flood of light from the window above him. But the moment he heard the faint click of a door, his groggy mind forced itself awake. He continued to lay still and listened for the familiar sound of heavy wooden footsteps. 

But none came.

In fact, it was eerily quiet. Pushig himself up, he looked around him. Instead of his dirty rag-bed, he was sitting comfortably on a plush blanket. Instead of his cage, he was surrounded by the plastic walls of some tub. He rubbed his eye sockets vigorously, then looked around again. Nothing changed. It hadn’t been a nightmare or some cruel dream? It was _real?_

He grippped the blanket and rubbed the fabric between his phalanges. It sure _felt_ real. He turned to his arm and fidgeted with the bandaid, causing a stinging sensation to race up his arm. Yep, that was **definitely** real. He looked up at the towel. The towel that _you_ had left for him. So you must be real too, right?

Choker . . . didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand, you hadn't been anything but nice and considerate to him despite his behavior. But on the other hand, humans were only nice when they wanted something out of him. The thought sent an uneasy shiver through him. Pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, he rested his chin on his knees.

He replayed the conversation from last night in his mind. The fear and stress had been overwhelming at the time so that, even though he felt calmer now, he struggled to recollect your words. But he did remember your soft voice and caring tone. And your smile. You were always smiling at him. Even when you came back from crying, you were smiling. And it wasn't the cruel, greedy smile that Rick often displayed. 

Choker remembers you said something about him being safe. And while his suspicous and distrustful nature told him not to believe you- that it was lie and a trap- he couldn't help . . . _feeling_ safe. It frustrated him. The last thing he needed was to be lulled into a false sense of security. But was it false? You said you only wanted to help him. But why would you help a worthless, broken bitty? Were you just gonna help him get better so he could fight for you? That didn't seem likely. You wouldn't be this nice to him if that was the case. But what if he did get better? You'd get rid of him once he was well, right? You wouldn't keep him- his behavior last night made sure of that. Sure, you might be _just_ crazy enough to help him out of _kindess_ , but you wouldn’t _keep_ him for kindness's sake. Not that he wanted you to keep him. He didn't even wanna be within a few feet of you! He just . . he didn’t know what you were gonna do if he did get better. He didn’t know _anything!_

Choker's sockets narrowed in frustration. It felt like he was at the ring again, waiting to see whether today was the day he would dust. Only this time, his life was in the hands of a confusing numbskull. He had so many questions, but all the answers lied with _you_. If you didn't dust him, he felt sure the suspense and anxiety suffocating him would. 

Suddenly the door clicked open, causing him to flinch. He looked up at the towel. Maybe he could get his answers now. 

**Reader’s POV**

You walk back into your bedroom, feeling refreshed from your bathroom break. It’s amazing how energized you feel from washing your face. You feel the urge to do something and observe the room for a task. That’s when you notice a faint rustling noise coming from the tub. Was the little guy awake already? You carefully walked over to it.

"Hey . . . are you awake little guy?” you softly whisper, in case he wasn't awake.

You wait a few seconds. When you hear nothing, you shrug and start walking away.

“’m a-awake, “ a muffled voice says, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn back to the tub. "Oh, okay then!"

Getting on your knees, you grab the end of the towel and say in a low voice, “I’m going to remove the towel now, okay?”

A pause.

“ok-kay.” 

With his permission, you pull the towel off the tub and look inside. The bitty squints at the light. He’s hunched over his legs, gripping them tightly to his chest. Was he trying to make himself look smaller? You couldn’t be sure, but you did notice that instead of being terrified, he looked nervous and timid. Not great, but progress is progress, right?

You smile at him, feeling more confident than last night. “How are you feeling, bud?”

The bitty looks confused for a second, then glances down at his arm. “uh . . . ok?”

“Oh, well, that’s good, but um, I meant more . . . uh, emotionally?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say his cheeks flushed pink for brief moment. Was he embarrassed? He didn’t answer you, but he did nod affirmatively. 

Your smile relaxed. “That's good. I'm glad you're feeling better." 

Moving into a more comfortable sitting position, you faced the bitty, silently signaling that it was time to chat. He got the message and relaxed his own posture _ever so_ slightly. His brow-bones creased with unease but also . . anticipation? Guess he was just as ready to talk as you were.

_Welp, now’s as good a time as any. Deep breaths Y/N. You got this._

“Alrighty, let's start with some proper introductions. My name is Y/N and I’m a twenty-two year old human female who lives alone in this apartment!”

You gesture towards the room for dramatic effect. The bitty doesn’t comment and only stares at you with an expression that can only be described as a “WTF face”. You have to restrain yourself from giggling at the sight. 

Pointing a finger at him (but keeping it faaar away from the tub), you say with equal flair, “now it’s _your_ turn!”

“o-oh, um . . . my name is uh, choker, and uh . . i’m an edgy . . . bitty . . . i guess. . .” he says awkwardly, scratching his good arm. 

“Choker huh? Like, the tight necklaces that girls wear? Well, fashionable girls that is.” You never could get used to wearing those stupid things. 

The bitty looks up in surprise and stiffens. You’re about to ask what’s wrong, but he quickly looks away nervously. “uh, yeah . . . guess so . . .”

Did you just embarrass him over his _name?_ Great, _just_ great.

You rub your neck guiltily. “Oh, that’s too bad really.”

The bitty twitches.“w-why?” 

“Cuz it’s kinda hard to come up with cute nicknames for _Choker_ ” you reply, hiding your sly smile poorly. 

For the first time since you met him, he looks annoyed and folds his arms. “d-don’t be given’ me any stupid ass nicknames unless ya want me to call ya somethin’ stupid too, like . . . like ‘carrot’ r' some shit . . .”

Your finger reaches for a lock of your ginger hair. Guess even bitties can’t resist a red-head joke. But you’re not mad- you’re used to them by now. 

In fact, you grin as you say, “actually, I think that’s a really cute nickname! If you wanna call me “Carrot” instead of Y/N, you go right ahead.”

Apparently the bitty hadn’t expected that- his eye sockets going wide as he sputters in protest. You couldn’t help laughing, which only ticked the bitty off more. He growls, lowering his head into his knees. 

“tch, whatever,” he grumbles.

Your smile falls a little as the next question occurs to you. You don’t want to ask it, but it needs to be said.

“So, Choker, . . I uh, I assume your human owner gave you that name?”

He stiffens at the word “owner”. Seems your hunch was correct. He doesn’t respond immediately and he looks like he might try to challenge your assumption, but he finally just sighs and nods his head. The next question felt even harder to ask, but you had to press on. You needed answers.

“I see. And um . . . do you want to go back to that person?” You ask, your palms feeling unusally sweaty.

“h-hell no!” he curses, trying to sound angry, but his quivering eyelights betray him.

“Did they, uh, put you in the box I found you in?” You have a feeling the answer is yes, but you hope against hope it’s not.

Unfortunately, the bitty nods after a moment and raises his head to speak. 

“y-yeah. they did. they . . . abandoned me. i don’t have a hu-, uh, an owner anymore. s-so don’t try n’ take me back or i’ll . . . i’ll b-bite you!” he tries to snarl but it wavers. 

He looks so unsure of himself. Why? Is he worried you’re mad at him? You’re not mad (well, at the bitty at least). In fact, you feel kinda relieved. You tell yourself it’s because the dreaded situation of returning a bitty that you took won’t happen now. You give the bitty a warm smile.

“It’s ok, don’t worry. I won’t force you to go back to them. I won’t force you to do anything! You never have to see them again if you don't want too,” you assure him

The bitty perks up at that, if only slightly. It worries you. Sure, you didn't expect him to want to go rushing back to the person who abandoned him, but his postive reaction to never seeing them again makes you suspect there's more going on. Your eyes fall the bandaid wrapped around his arm.

"By the way, how did you hurt your arm?" you ask before you can catch yourself.

The tiny skeleton freezes, the frightened look re-surfacing again and causing you to grimace.

"Sorry- sorry! I didn't mean anything by it, I was just curious. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just thought . . I-I was wondering if maybe your uh, old owner had anything to do with your injury. But- you don't have to tell me if they did or anything! Sorry for asking," you back-pedal quickly.

The bitty looks caught off guard by your rambeling. Before you can anaylze it more, he grabs his bad arm nervously and glances down. 

“um . . . t-they did,” he says timidly.

Now it was your turn to blink in surprise. You honeslty hadn't expected an answer. Sure, the one Choker gave you was vague at best, but it was still something. Why? Was it out of guilt? Trust maybe? Whatever it was, the answer makes your anger flash for a moment. What kind of monster hurts a poor little bitty and just leaves them out to die in a snow storm? Who knows what could have happened if you hadn't found him.

You're now more confident than ever that your decision to bring him home was the right one, even if he was still wary of you. Which made sense, considering his experience with humans. But you're determined to prove to the bitty that he can trust you. You start by leaning causually back on your hands and giving him a small smile.

"I see, well, thank you for telling me."

You pause, but when he doesn't react, you continue. "So, Choker, if you no longer have a home to go back to, then that leaves you with two choices."

He gulps, which is strange since he’s a skeleton, but you ignore it. 

You look out the window as you go on. “The first is to go to the adoption center or some other bitty place. You’re hurt and they can provide you better care than I can. And I’m sure once you heal up, someone nice will come and adopt you and you can live happily with them-”

“n-no, no no no, _please_ don’t t-take me t-there!” his shaky voice pleads.

You glanced down to see him now on his knees now, leaning forward and looking up at you with fearful, panicked eyelights. He’s pratically **begging** you. You resist the impulse to reach down and hug him, lifting a hand up to calm him down instead.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok! Don't worry, I’m not going to take you anywhere you don’t wanna go. I was only suggesting it because you’re hurt and I thought maybe they could help you.”

He stares hard at you, unsure if he should believe you. After a moment, he leans back down and sits cross legged. 

Hugging his injured arm he mumbles, “t’s fine. it’ll get better on its own. just takes time.“

He’s still upset, but calmer now. Gee, this poor guy. Nearly everything seemed to upset him. He sure was a piece of work, but you took him in so now it was your job to help him. You offer him a sympathetic smile.

“Okay, well, then there’s still the second option," you continue. "If you don’t wanna go to any bitty place, then you’re more than welcome to stay here with me. I don’t know much about bitties, but I’ll do my best to take care of you . . . if you want me too, that is . .”

He looks up at you- and is it just your imagination, or did his eyelights just get slightly bigger and brighter? Whatever it was, it’s gone now, and he’s looking back at the blanket. He seems torn. But if he didn’t want to go to a center, what other choice did he have?

Wait . . . was that it? 

Did he feel trapped here? Was that why he was so hesitant? He just got abandoned and hurt by an awful person and probably wants nothing to do with humans, so you couldn't blame him. And you're certain he wants nothing to do with you, since you can’t even get near him without triggering a panic attack. But if he didn't want to go to the center, then where else could he go?

You rack your brain for a solution, when an idea occurs to you. You’re not thrilled about it, but you have to try for Choker’s sake.

“Ok look, I just want to help you," you sigh. "But if you don’t want to be around me, I . . I understand completely. So how about we make a deal? You stay with me for a week while your injury heals and then you can decide from there what you want to do. Whether that's going to a center or staying with me. Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”

You pause, then bite your lip as you add, “But if you don’t want to stay here any longer, I’ll . . I’ll let you go. Outside, I mean. It’s really cold though, so I can leave some blankets near my door for you. Oh! And I’ll leave food and water for you too . . well, maybe not water, since that’ll freeze over. But at least food, so you won’t have to eat trash. It's your choice, Choker.”

The bitty still doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even make eye contact with you. You glance away, twisting your hoodie string around your fingers. An uncomfortably long and tense silence fills the air. You don’t know why Choker hasn’t said anything. You hope it's because he's deciding if he can trust you enough to stay. 

“i um . . . guess i'll stay wit' ya . . . ” he says, his voice is so low you almost miss it.

You look down at him and he looks up at you. His eyes are wide and apprehensive but also desperate ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶. You’ve never felt the urge to protect and care for someone so strongly before, but you knew in this moment you would do anything for this broken, scared little bitty. You could only hope he’d let you. 

"b-but, if ya try anythin' i won't hesistate ta give ya a bad time," he adds darkly.

You supress the chill it gives you and say warmly, "don't worry, I won't. You're safe with me, I promise."

"tch'," he scoffs, looking away again.

You try to think of something else to say, but your mind draws up blank. Before things can get awkward, you stand up and stretch with a yawn.

“Well, now that _that_ is settled, how about some breakfast? What are you in the mood for, Choker?” you say, popping your knuckles.

He stares up dumbfounded. “u-uh . . . dunno . . . whatever’s fine.”

“Ok, well, I’ve got some bagels and sausage. Does that sound good to you?”

His eyelights dilate again, but he hastily turns away and shrugs, “yeah, sure.”

“Alright then, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” you say and head for the door, only to stop halfway and turn around.

“Wait, I forgot to ask, do you like your bagel toasted? And do you want anything on it? I’ve got butter, jam, jelly, cream cheese-”

“ . . m-mustard . .”

You blink.

“Really? Mustard?” you ask, trying not to sound judgmental. 

“yes- no, uh, j-just forget it-”

“-Oh, no no, it's okay! If you want mustard, I can put it on your bagel, it’s no biggie,” you say hastily.

He mumbles something but you can’t make it out. You scurry towards your small kitchen that’s filled to the brim with 50 spices that you almost never use but keep for the aesthetic.You quickly start cooking, keeping an eye on the toasting bagels as you fry the sausage. Once they’re cooked and the bagels are slathered with their respective condiments, you slap a towel over your arm and head back to the room with a plate in each hand. You place your meal on your desk before walking over to the tub. The bitty is standing patiently, but you can tell from the dilated eyes and slight drool that he was doing all he could to restrain himself. 

You smile at the cute display and sit on your knees. “Do you want to eat in your bed, Choker?"

The bitty nods decisively. 

“In that case, can you please stand back a little so I can put this towel on the blanket so you don’t get it dirty?"

He obeys your request and backs into one of the corners. He’s tense as he watches you place and spread the towel, but completely relaxes the moment the food is lowered on top. As soon as your hands are gone, he crawls over to it and eyes the food hungrily. He stabs his claws into the sausage, brings it to his mouth, and rips out a chunk with ease. It was both terrifying and adorable. You watch him scarf down another bite and subconsciously wonder where it all goes. He suddenly stops midbite, his eyelights moving from his food to you as he scowls. You feel your pale face redden with embarrassment. 

“Um, do you like it?" you ask sheepishly.

The bitty just grunts and goes back to eating, still eyeing you suspicously.

"Ok then, if you’re good, I’ll be over here eating my breakfast. Just call me if you need anything” you say, scooting away from the tub. 

You stand up and move to your desk. Lifting your butter-soggy bagel with one hand, you bite into it and pull out your old laptop with your free hand. You type “Edgy Bitties” into your search engine and the first result is the official bitty website, so you click it. Pictures of Edgies pop up with their scarless bodies and signature fur jackets. Seeing what a healthy, normal Edgy looks like makes you ache with pity for the bitty in your care. You quickly move on to the wall of text and scroll down, merely grazing the bits of info.

**” -Bitty's don't require a special diet and can eat any human food. However, they do have condiment preferences. Edgies, unlike their other Sans-type counterparts, enjoy mustard more than ketchup. So be sure to have an extra bottle for your little guy-”**

_Huh. Well, that explains the mustard bagel I guess. And it's a good thing these he can eat anything. I don’t think I could afford an expensive bitty kibble or something._

**“- Edgies are very possessive and territorial. They don’t like sharing their stuff or their human. They can get very jealous of other bitties, so if you’re planning on getting a different bitty, adopt them together at the same time-”**

_Well, I’m not planning on getting another bitty, but this is good to know. I hope he doesn’t scare anyone off. Pfft, he’s more likely to be scared off by **them** if I’m being honest. But since no one visits me it shouldn’t be a big deal._

**”-like every bitty, Edgies need SOUL time in order to thrive. While they may be standoffish when it comes to affection and cuddling, they always appreciate a good back rub and a nap with their favorite human-”**

_Aw, so Edgies are like little Tsunderes, how adorable! Of course, that will make it harder for me to win Choker over. But that's okay, I'm sure he'll come around eventually._

You continue to speed read through the article. Most of it isn’t helpful though, since Choker isn’t acting like the Edgies being described. But at least you knew what a healthy Edgy looked like so you could track his progress and see if he’s improving. You finally reach the end, only to find there was nothing about injured bitties. Annoyed but undeterred, you scroll back up and type “injured bitty” in the website’s search bar. It re-routes you to the “Is Your Bitty Sick?” page. You scroll down to find anything regarding broken or cracked bones, but the article doesn’t categorize certain injuries. Instead, it tells you that in most bitty wounds and illnesses can be healed just by having more SOUL time.

 _SOUL time._

It sounded like some cult nonsense. Sure, you believed you had a soul, but not a _physical_ one. So how could the bitty draw “energy” or whatever from some non-physical soul source? The concept both confused and intrigued you. But since bitties themselves were anomalies, you just labeled it as another weird bitty-thing and moved on to the bigger question at hand: 

If all bitties needed to heal their wounds were hugs and cuddles from a human, how were you going to heal a badly injured bitty with haphephobia? Could he be healed another way that didn’t involve you touching him?

You search the article, unable to find the answer you wanted. So you turn to your search engine again and eloquently type “heal bitty but not with soul time”. Several articles pop up, but every single one you click on only tells you the same thing: bitties need SOUL “energy” to heal and that’s the only way aside from taking them to a medical facility, which was out of the question for Choker. 

You glance at the tub. Did Choker _know_ he needed your SOUL to heal him? He was a bitty, so surely he did. But would that knowledge be enough to convince him to let you hold him? You suppose it couldn’t hurt to ask.

Wiping bagel crumbs on your hoodie, you quietly approach the tub. You expected to hear the sounds of messy eating, but it was strangely quiet. Looking inside you saw why. The bitty had devoured every scrap of food on his plate and was now curled up alseep in the corner. Once again you're tempted to stroke his tiny back, but again you resist. You’d touch him when and only when you had his trust. 

Picking up the plate and towel, you carry the dishes to the kitchen. When you came back into the room the bitty was still fast asleep. You didn’t see any reason to wake him, so instead, you place the towel back over his tub and walk to your desk. With nothing else to do, you plug in your headphones and load an episode of _Kitchen Nightmares_. It was your day off afterall- a little binging couldn't hurt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a decent conversation between these two. It probably helps that they're both well rested now. It's an unstable start to their relationship but it's a start nonetheless!
> 
> Also, if any of you feel cheated that Choker's POV was only a few short paragraphs, don't worry, he's gonna get all of chapter 7 to himself. The chapter is almost done too, so I'll probably post it within a day or so.
> 
> And sorry, but no picture this time. I couldn't think of a moment worthy of piece that isn't of him sleeping or talking. But the next chapter's picture will be adorable enough to make up for that I hope. :p


	7. Let's Play 20 Questions

“Choker . . . Choker . . . wake up please . . .”

Choker groans, opening one eye socket. He looks up to see the human standing over him with a comforting smile. Pushing himself into a sitting position with one arm, he groggily rubs his face with the other.

“Did you have a good nap?” you ask sweetly.

He . . . he did have a good nap? A _really_ good nap. He was used to sleeping most of his days and nights in his cage, but he never once felt _this_ well rested. Was it the bedding? Or maybe the food? Realising you were still waiting for an answer, he looks up at you and shrugs. “y-yeah, i guess.” 

You grin down at him. "That’s great! I don’t know if this is normal for bitties or not, but you napped for 7 hours straight. I figured what with your injury and all that it was best to let you sleep. But I decided I should get you up now to see if you wanted some dinner.” 

“dinner?” Choker said blankly.

“Yeah, Dinner. You know . . the third meal of the day."

A faint memory of meal time at the adoption center flickered in his mind. Oh. Dinner. Right.

“tch’ . . y-yeah i know. i was just . . . wonderin’ what ya had in mind . . fer dinner,” he said casually, hoping you wouldn’t see through his lie. 

If you did, you didn’t call him out on it. You just said, “actually, I’ve ordered a pizza. It’s here now and I’d be more than happy to share it with you.”

 _“pizza?”_ he nearly shouts before catching himself. The thought of a fresh, greasy slice of pizza made his SOUL hum, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. 

Instead of an annoyed scowl or curt reprimand, you have the audacity to _giggle_ at his outburst. 

“Yep! I’m sorry- I didn’t think to ask you what kind you liked before I ordered. I hope pepperoni is ok.”

He shrugs, trying not to grin, but fails. “eh, it’ll do i guess. i’ll eat anythin’ wit' enough mustard.”

“Well good thing I grabbed the bottle then,” you smirk.

You brought the whole bottle _just for him?_ He scratched his jaw just to make sure it wasn’t hanging open. 

“But uh . .” you hesitate for a moment, “I was thinking . . . maybe you could eat the pizza on the floor? Since I don’t want you to make a greasy mess all over your bed. Is- is that ok with you?”

He was going to decline but after thinking it over, he realises he probably would make a mess. He didn’t like the idea of leaving the safety of the tub, but it was for the best. Besides, he’d finally get a good look at the room he was in. Choker nods his consent and your smile brightens. 

“Awesome! Ok then, just come out whenever you want then.”

He panics as he watches you start to leave. “w-wait! i . . . i can’t get out.”

You look back. “Really? But I thought bitties could teleport?”

Choker rubs his injured shoulder. “yeah well . . i can’t . . not wit’ these cracks in my arm.” He doesn’t add the fact bitties can’t teleport through solids either. 

You hiss sharply. “I’m so sorry Choker, I didn’t realise that. How. . . how is your arm doing by the way?”

It hurts to touch or move and the cracks haven't improved at all. If it weren’t for the stupid bandaid he’d probably be leaking even more magic. But all Choker says is, “t’s fine.” 

You look like you want to ask him something, but stop. After a moment you rub your neck and say, “so um . . . how should I get you out of there?”

“dunno. anythin’ but picken’ me up with yer hands,” he scowls. 

Your face suddenly lights up. “Oh, I've got it! Hold on a sec,” you say, darting away from the tub. After some drawers open and close loudly, you return with a purple coat in your hand. He steps back as you lower it into the tub.

“Here, you can climb into the pocket and I’ll lift you out by holding onto the collar here. Then, when I set you on the ground you can just crawl out,” you say proudly, like you had just invented the fucking light bulb.

Although, Choker has to admit, the plan isn't half bad. Definitely beats getting manhandled by your grubby digits. Silently, he climbs inside the spacious pocket. It folds around his body like a hammock as you lift it up. You’re very slow and gentle, but he still feels incredibly nervous being in the air. He quickly rolls out of it when you’re just a few inches from the ground. He lands on his feet with a grunt.

“Choker, be careful!” you reprimand him for the first time, and not uncaringly. You sound more worried than angry. 

“i’m fine. i’m not fragile ya know,” he grumbles, _obviously_ not pleased by your concern. 

“Pfft, that fracture says otherwise,” you tease, standing up to retrieve the unopened box of pizza. 

He takes the moment you're distracted to look around the room. There’s a comfy bed, a matching dresser and nightstand, a old desk, and a beanbag. There’s two doors, one he assumes is a closet, and the other a way out of the room. Too bad there’s no way to tell which is which. Aside from the doors, the one window above his tub is the only other exit. And since he can’t teleport to that height, it wasn’t an option right now.

He glanced around for anything you could use to hurt him. But there was nothing. There were no cages. No straps or hammers or traps. Nothing but plants, books, and plastic figurines that covered the surfaces and shelves, while only pictures or drawings of humans hung on the walls. The room even _smelled clean._ It was nothing more than a normal bedroom filled with normal things. It was . . . nice.

The sound of you grunting distracted him and he whipped back towards you. Had you noticed him looking around? He studied your face, but he saw nothing but your dumb, stupid smile. You sat on the floor now, along with a steaming pie of cheese and pepperoni, two plates, napkins, a soda can, and a bottle of mustard. You take a big slice, place it on a plate, and scoot it over to him. 

“Here ya go bud! Bon' appetit!” you say.

He would have been tempted to snicker at your unintended pun, but his attention is focused solely on the pizza. The scent is overwhelming and the pizza is so hot he can see the steam swirl in the air. He practically floats over to it. Sitting down, he grabs it with both claws and pulls the corner to his mouth. His fangs melt into the gooey cheese, grease and sauce splattering all over his skull in the process. 

“Haha, it’s that good, huh?” he hears you say through his pizza-induced trance. 

He pauses mid bite to look at you. He feels his face grow warm, but his eyelights remain dilated with pleasure. He can’t help it. Taking another bite out of his slice, he says, “it’s the best damn piffa ‘ve ever had in mah life.”

“Yeah, Cicero can make some pretty decent pizza,” you chuckle.

Within less than a minute Choker devours the entire slice. He's kinda disappointed it's gone so soon, but he just couldn’t stop. He eyes another slice hungrily.

“Ready for another?” 

Choker nods and trys to wait patiently as you place another slice is placed on his plate. He grabs it and begins tearing at it with the same vigor as the first slice. He hears you giggle but opts to ignore you. 

He’s almost finished with his pizza when you move, startling him. He looks up and watches closely as you move to lay on your stomach, situating a hand under your chin and continuing to eat the pizza with your other hand. You smile at him and he looks back at his food, not wanting to meet your now eye-level gaze.

“So,” you say, breaking the comfortable, pizza-filled silence. “I have an idea, Choker. Since I asked you a lot of questions this morning, why don’t you ask me some? That way, you can know more about me and . . . ya know . . feel more comfortable.”

Choker stops mid-chew. “ya . . . ya really want me ta ask ya questions?” 

“Yeah! Ask me anything you want!” you say, taking another bite.

He thinks. There’s a lot he wants to ask you, but when it came to you as a person, only a few questions came to mind and none of them were . . . _polite_. But you said he could ask you anything. He swallows, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

“um . . . well . . do you . . do you do d-drugs?” 

“What!?” you cough, spitting out partially chewed pizza. 

He’s disgusted, but much too nerve-wracked to care at the moment. He cowers, expecting your eyes to narrow with anger at his offensive question. Instead, you cover your mouth and gulp down the food. Your eyes twinkle with amusement, as if he had just told a joke. But as you stare at him, your expression changes to one of guilt. 

You clear your throat. “Uh, no, I don’t do drugs. No drugs, smoking, or alcohol. My dad, he was addicted to the last two before he met my mom. He’s clean now, but I’m uh, still scared. Ya know, since I have his genes. I’m worried I could easily become addicted like him so I stay far away from that stuff. I already struggle with my sugar and carb addiction as it is!”

You laugh at your joke, but then your smile fades into a sad frown. It makes him . . . uncomfortable. Choker awkwardly takes a bite of his pizza, not sure what else to do.

“Um, Choker, did . . . did your owner take drugs?”

He freezes. Shit, was he that transparent? He swallows, scratching the back of his skull with a greasy hand. 

“t-that’s nunna ya business,” he mutters. He doesn’t like telling you off, but he doesn’t like talking about Rick even more. And besides, wasn’t _he_ the one supposed to be asking personal questions? 

“Oh, sorry.” 

He looks up at you in time to see you take another bite of pizza. You’re not gonna push him to tell you? You . . you really are sorry? His SOUL feels a slight twinge of guilt.

“so . . . what’s yer job?” he asks roughly. 

Just as he hoped, you brighten up at the question. “Oh! I work at the library in town. I’m a library assistant, but that’s just a fancy way of saying I shelve books and help people check out.”

Choker looks up at you with a half-lidded stare. “really? that’s lame.”

Again, you’re not offended by his crude remark. Instead, you just laugh. "Well, I don’t know if I’d call it lame- _boring_ is more like it. But it’s nice too, don’t get me wrong. I get to read a lot when it’s slow, which is often. And for a bookworm like me, getting to work surrounded by thousands of books is _literal heaven!”_

“tch . . . nerd,” he snorts. 

You smirk back. “What was that _edgelord_.”

“n-nothin’,” he mumered, quickly drenching his crust in mustard and stuffing it in his mouth.

The room is silent again, but he doesn’t care. He’s too busy enjoying the hot, greasy bread to ask you anymore dumb questions. 

“Hey Choker, what’s your favorite animal?” You suddenly ask him.

He nearly chokes in surprise and goes into a coughing fit. “what-what kinda question is’that?” he says hoarsly.

“Oh come on, just humor me, please? I’ll tell you mine- it’s a deer!"

A deer. Of course you’d love a brainless creature like them. Choker thought about his answer, but struggled to find an animal he liked. Most were bigger than him and terrified him down to his SOUL. But there was _one_ creature he could get along with. 

“uh, i guess spiders ‘r ok. . .”

“Oh, spiders? They’re not technically an animal, but I guess they can count. Ok, next question. Are you ready, it’s a hard one . . .” You pause for dramatic effect.

“ . . what’s your favorite color?” You ask, wiggling your eyebrows patronizingly 

He stares you dead in the eyes.

“green.” 

You blink back. “Green? Huh, ok. That’s cool. I uh . . I thought maybe you were gonna say red or black since you’re an Edgy, b-but I think green is a nice choice! Mine is yellow,” you say cheerfully, but it sounds forced.

Choker scowls. Your words reminded him that he wasn’t a normal Edgy. But he couldn’t help it if red and black made him sick. If they reminded him of the many, many Edgies he . . he . . . yeah. But green wasn’t a color he associated with bitties. It made him think of grass. Of the trees he’d seen outside the store window. Of _freedom._

“Um . . . so what kind of music do you like?” you ask, interrupting his thoughts.

_nunna that stupid dubstep r’ undertale music, that’s fer sure._

He shrugged. “dunno. didn’t really listen to much.”

“Ok, we can find out what your favorite kind is right now then!” you say, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

He watches curiously as you swipe on your phone as he had often seen Rick do. Only he didn’t have to ask to know what you were doing. You were going to play music for him? To see what _he_ liked? He was dumbfounded. And m-maybe just a little bit pleased. 

After a few seconds you said, “Ok, I’ll play a song from a music genre and you tell me if you like it or not, alright?”

The bitty nodded, moving comfortably to lay on his stomach just like you.

You tapped your screen again and a song suddenly started playing loudly. The human male was screaming and shouting his lyrics to a cascade of equally loud and annoying instruments. It made his head hurt. It also reminded him a little too much of the songs played at the ring. 

“ugh, that’s music?” he huffed.

“Well, to some people yes. I thought maybe you would like hardcore rock since- b- but uh, I guess not. Next one!”

You stopped the song and a new one began. Instead of a male it was a shrill female nasally singing to an obnoxiously ubeat tune. It was catchy but also overly repetitive.

He grimaced. “do you actually _listen_ to this stuff?”

“Not really. I’m not much of a pop fan myself. Here, I’m sure the third time’s the charm!”

Choker was starting to doubt if there was such a thing as good human music. He couldn’t tolerate listening to much more of these “singers”. 

The pop song ended abruptly. After a moment, the next one started much more softly than the last two. It eventually grew louder, it’s sweet notes twinkling rhythmically. He waited for some human to start singing, but none did. The song continued and Choker found himself not _hating_ it. 

“So you’re a music box fan huh?” you giggle as his grin falters.

Choker shoots you a weak glare. “it’s . . . ok, i guess.”

He lays his head on the carpet, tucking his arms under his chin, secretly hoping you’d let the song finish. You moved as well, placing the phone on the floor and rolling onto your back. You didn’t say anything, so neither did he. He felt . . . sorta comfortable, laying on the floor with you and listening to the song. He gradually let his eyes close. For the first time, he let himself completely relax in your presence.

The song ended, but as soon as it did, it started back up again. He didn’t know such pretty sounds existed. It was nothing like the harsh, loud dubstep he was used to. This . . this _music box_ as you had called it- it’s soft and gentle melody quieted his anxious SOUL. He couldn’t remember a time he felt this peaceful.

“. . . ker . . .Choker . . .”

His hazy mind finally realised the faint, sing-song voice was you talking to him. He also realised there was another sound besides the twinkling music box song. It sounded like a deep rumble and it was very, **very** close. He coughed, hoping that would stop it. Once it did, he looked up at you, rubbing an eye socket as he yawned. 

“You tired bud? Wanna go back to bed? It is getting pretty late.”

Choker nods, getting to his feet. You silently hand him a fresh napkin, which he uses to clean himself again. Although if he’s honest, it feels like he’s just smearing the grease and dirt over his face instead of removing it. Once he's done, you grab the top of the coat, which he sees is his cue to crawl back into the pocket. He’s too lazy to jump out this time and waits until he feels the soft bedding under him before he squirms out onto it. You pull the coat out while he takes a moment to knead and squish the blanket into a comfortable nest.

“Alright Choker, I’m gonna do a few things before bed so I’ll put the towel back to block out some of the light. Oh! And I can leave my phone by the tub if you want to listen to the song until you fall asleep. Would you like that?”

“yeah,” he replies with another yawn.

He senses the light growing dimmer through his closed eye sockets. The music continues to play, although slightly muffled by the towel and tub walls. He nuzzles his face into the blanket.

“Sleep well Choker,” you say as he hears you walk away.

“yeah, wat'ever . . .“ he mumbles sleepily. 

In his semi-awake state, he thinks over what he’s learned about you.

You weren’t a druggie. This alone made him feel more at ease. Sure, you could still get mad and punish him or throw him out, but you were probably less prone to random violence, unlike Rick. He just had to find your line and be prepared when he would inevitably cross it. 

You also worked at a boring ass _library_. What a wimpy job. But then again, maybe it suited a wimp like you. Did it pay well? Were you looking to make money on the side like Rick? Were you gonna try and sell him? Money was the motivator for Rick, so what made you any different? 

However, even as Choker thought these things, he found himself struggling to believe his own suspicions. You didn’t do anything to indicate you had one cruel bone in your body. You were annoying, sure, but not cruel. Still, he’d stay alert until he could sure without a doubt you were nothing but the dumb, kind idiot you appeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short but hopefully sweet. I orginally had chapter 6 and 7 combined, but I felt like that was too much for one chapter so I split them. Since this is still their first day together the progress is slow, but the pace should pick up some more by chapter 8. I'll give you guys a little spoiler: our little Choker loses his _choker._


	8. A Collar, A Cleaning, And Clothes

The next morning Choker woke up once again to the click of the door. He told you he was awake when you returned. You removed the towel, giving him the same greeting as before. He decided to push the boundaries a bit and growled that he was wanted food. You complied like the idiot you were and left to fix him something called a “flapjack”. Turns out, they were just really tiny pancakes. You laughed when he shoved the whole thing into his mouth, but it wasn’t his fault you made his _extra_ tiny. He would have been annoyed, but you made him like 30, so he didn’t complain. Instead he sat on the floor as he had the night before, shoveling one mustard coated pancake in one after the other. 

You sat cross-legged across from him quietly eating your own human-sized flapjacks. You hadn’t said much to him all morning. Not that he cared. He liked eating his meal without you asking him dumb things. But at the same time, not hearing your rambling or getting bombarded with questions made him feel . . . _uneasy_. It meant you were thinking, and he didn’t like not knowing what was going through that empty skull of yours.

After a few minutes he cleared his entire plate of any remaining crumb of food. You just asked him if he was done and handed him another napkin. He wiped his mouth and phalanges before throwing it on the plate. Without another word, you take his and your dish and walk over to set it on your desk. He scratched his good arm to distract from the growing panic inside. He needed to stay calm. He needed to be ready for whatever you had planned now that breakfast was over.

You came back and sat down with a sigh. He flinches ever so slightly, ready to spring up and dart under the bed should this go south. He looks at you, waiting for you to talk first. 

“Ok Choker,” you sigh, "I don’t want to offend you, but you _really_ need a bath. I mean, your blanket has little Choker-sized dirt smudges on it. I don’t know if you're comfortable with a bath, but I really think you need to take one now if possible. ”

A bath. 

_That’s_ why you were so quiet? You just wanted him to take a fuckin’ **bath?**

He felt annoyed you put him through all that stress during breakfast for something so _stupid_ , but his growing anger was suddenly snuffed out when a thought occurred to him.

“um . . . how’d ya plan on me takin’ one?” he asked, trying not to sound nervous. 

“Oh, I figured you could just shower using the bathroom faucet. I’ve got some body wash that you can use to get yourself clean. Do bitties need a special kind of soap?” 

“yer . . . yer not gonna wash me yer’self?”

“Not unless you need me to-”

 _“-i don’t!”_ he snapped.

You nod, unphased by his curt remark, ”alright, I thought so. Does this mean you’re ready to take a bath then?”

Choker knows he should just say yes. Just give the human what they want so you won’t get hurt. But something in his Edgy nature that he thought he’d lost kept him from complying. Damn the consequences- he wasn’t some obedient pet who would do whatever you wanted. He would do what HE wanted!

“no, i don’t wanna damn bath, im fine,” he said, keeping his tone even. He didn’t want to make you _that_ mad. 

But you didn’t get mad. You just cocked your head and asked, “Why don’t you want a bath?”

The word echoed in his mind. _”Why?”_ He had expected _”I don’t care Choker, you’re taking one” or “I’m not giving you anymore mustard until you bathe”._ Not _**“Why?”**_

“b-because i don’t like getting w-wet,” he stammered, going with the first lie that came to mind. 

You leaned back and casually nodded. “Ok, I understand. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I mean, I personally love a good shower. Nothing feels better than soaking under the hot water as it rushes over you and basking in the steam of it. And I love the soapy bubbles that make me feel all smooth and clean. Then when I get out I feel so fresh and relaxed and it’s so nice . . .”

That . . that did sound nice. **Really** nice. Choker couldn’t remember the last time he had a decent bath. The closest he ever came to bathing in his cage was by dipping the edge of his rag bed into his cold water bowl. Compared to that, a shower sounded like the best thing since mustard. 

". . . but you know, I understand you don’t want to get all soapy and wet. If you don’t wanna take a bath then you-”

Choker scrambled to his feet. “w-wait! i changed m-my mind. i wanna take that bath and i wanna take it _now._ ” he barked. 

You looked surprised, then shrugged in defeat. “Ok, if that’s what you want.”

Damn right it is. Choker smirks, knowing he has you wrapped around his bony phalange. You reach for the coat and hold it out to him. He situates himself comfortably in his makeshift carrier, grabbing onto the edges so he can see out of it. You lift him slowly again, as if he weighed as much as a bowling ball instead of a malnourished kitten. He doesn’t see much more than the hallway before you enter the conveniently close bathroom. You walk up to the sink and let the coat hoover just an inch above the counter. He jumps down, his claws making click-clack sounds on the shiny surface. 

“I’ll grab the body wash from the shower while you start undressing. Just leave your stuff in a pile and I’ll wash it while you bathe, ok?” you say, turning away before he can answer you.

He freezes. In his enthusiasm to demand a bath right then and there, he had forgotten one little detail. 

His **collar.**

Choker gulped. He didn't know what to do. Should he bathe with it and hope the water won’t cause it to explode or shock him or something? What if he-

“Choker? What’s wrong?”

He looks up. You stare at him with a confused expression as you set a plastic bottle on the counter. 

“Choker?” you ask again. “What’s wrong? Oh, Wait! Are you conscientious about being without your clothes? I can look away if that would make you feel more comfortable.”

He clears his throat, trying to coax the words out. “n-no, i uh, i just can’t t-take my shirt off . . not wit’ my collar s-still on,” he fumbles.

“Oh, really? Well, just take it off then! If you’re worried about losing it, I promise I won’t let anything happen to-”

“-no! it’s not . . . i can’t . . _i can’t take it off ok!?_ it’s locked ya dumbass, an’ unless ya got the key this thing ain’t comin’ off!” he growled, yanking at the collar. 

Your face frowns with a flash of anger, but it quickly fades into one of guilt. “Oh . . . sorry Choker, I didn’t . . I didn’t know. . .” you falter.

Why? Why did you feel guilty when _he_ was the one yelling and cursing at you? It frustrated him even more than when you would just smile and shrug it off. He refused to look at you.

“. . . I can try cutting it off with scissors if you want me too."

Choker’s eyes widen. “can . . . can ya really do that- cut it off?”

You shrug. “I can try.”

He grips his collar tighter. 

No more shocking. No more tracking. No more uncomfortable sleeping positions. You could remove it. And you’d do that for him, no questions asked? He doesn’t want you to do it. He doesn’t want you to touch him and handle him in order to cut it off. But his desire to be rid of the damn thing forever overrode his fear of being held by you. 

“k-k . . .” he finally stammers. 

“Alright,” you say with a small smile, “I’ll be right back.”

**Reader’s POV**

_Where are those stupid scissors!?_

You rummaged through your desk drawer, hoping to find your crafting scissors. When you didn’t see them, you slammed the drawer shut and looked through your pencil bag. Ah! There it was. You pulled the tiny blue scissors out. They start to shake in your hand as you look at them.

You’re such an idiot. Why couldn’t you figure out he can’t take it off? No one in their right mind would willingly sleep with spikes around their neck, whether they like the accessory or not. In your stupidity you made Choker upset and angry. Choker didn’t deserve that. He needed better care than you could offer, but you were his only option. 

You grip the scissors tighter in your palm, marching towards your door. You had messed up, but you would fix things now. Starting with that stupid collar. 

Walking back inside the bathroom, Choker looks up at you with apprehension but also a flicker of hope. However, the closer you get the more regretful he looks. You could feel his anxiety rub off on you. You force a smile. You couldn’t let him see how nervous you felt- you needed to be calm and confident for Choker.

Leaning down so that you’re now eye-level with him, you say sweetly, “you ready buddy?”

He nods and stiffens, his arms straight and his fingers grasping his shirt hem. He closes his eyes, expecting the worse.

“Hmmm . . . how about you turn around and lean your head forward so I can cut it from the back?” you suggest.

He opens one eye socket, then the other. He relaxes a bit and hesitantly nods again. You wait patiently for him to turn around with his head bowed and arms crossed. You let a bit of your unease show now that he’s no longer looking at you. Taking a deep breath, you study the collar. It looks like leather with tiny but sharp metal spikes all around. It’s no bigger than a ring, which would make it difficult to hold without touching the bitty’s body, but there was no other way to remove it. 

“Ok, I’m going to hold the collar now,” you warn him before pinching it with your pointer and thumb, tugging it towards you. He flinches and starts trembling a bit, but he remains perfectly still. You smile, encouraged by his bravery. Quickly but carefully, you slide the scissor blades over the collar, making sure you’re not hurting his skull in the process. You start to squeeze and the leather begins to give way. It cuts through to the middle before it hits something hard. You don’t question it and only flex the scissor harder. Choker let's out a low whimper. 

“It’s ok bud, I’m almost done, just a few more seconds,” you softly whisper.

Finally the hard substance gives way with a “snap” and you’re able to make quick work of the rest of the collar. The scissor makes one final cut through, allowing you to pull the collar halves away from Choker’s neck as quickly as possible. The whole ordeal is only about 20 seconds but it felt like 20 minutes. You sigh in relief and stand up, watching the bitty carefully. 

He doesn’t move for a few seconds. Then, slowly and timidly, his hands reach up and feel all around his neck (which is the adorable size of a lollipop stick). You're hesitant to say anything, not wanting to ruin his moment. Suddenly, he turns around to face you. You’ve never seen his eyelights this large before- not even when he was eating pizza. They nearly filled his entire socket and waver unsteadily, but not with fear. If you had to put your finger on it, you’d say he was . . . emotional.

“is . . . is it r-really g-gone?" He asks in a warbly voice.

Unable to find your own voice, you give him a sympathetic smile and silently hold out the frayed collar. He stares at it in disbelief. All of a sudden, two ruby tears prick the corner of each socket. They fall before he can catch them, but he’s quick to shut his eyes and rub the runaways from his cheeks. He starts chuckling a chocked up laugh.

You had never seen him so overwhelmed with emotions before. The sight warmed your heart. Before you knew it, a lump had formed in your own throat. Fortunately you swallowed it back down before any tears came. You didn’t need the both of you breaking down and crying. To distract yourself, you glance down at the collar fragments. You’re about to throw them in the trash when you notice something poking out of the leather.

“Um, Choker? What are wires doing in your collar?” you nervously ask. 

The bitty looks up at you, his happy grin vanishing into a look of pure terror. He glances at the collar then back at you, relaxing slightly. Hugging his arms to his chest he sighes, focusing his gaze on the counter beneath him.

“it’s . . . fer tracking n’- f-fer shocking- nothin’ dangerous- just a way of con-control."

His words sucked the air out of you. You looked down in horror at the collar. It began to blurry as your eyes filled with tears.

How? How could anyone be so **cruel**? Shocking an innocent, intelligent creature like him . . . Choker wasn’t even a threat! How? Why? Why would anyone want to harm him? No wonder he was so traumatised. His owner literally _tasered_ the little guy. Why? _WHY!?_

“u-um . . . c-carrots? ya ok?”

You looked up at Choker, but it was hard to see him through your tears. Numbly you wipe them away.

“I-I’m fine,” you sniffle. You walk over and toss the collar into the trash never to be seen or used again. You took the moment to get a hold of emotions, wiping your face free of tear stains. 

Turning back you force a smile. “Really, Choker, I’m fine. You don’t need to look so worried.”

The bitty looks away, his cheeks slightly flushed. “tch . . . i’m not worried. just don’t like ya cryin’ fer no reason.”

“Sure,” you concede more lightheartedly, turning the water on. 

Choker clumsily removes his shirt and pants as well as his stained bandaid. You can help but look. You're surprised to see even more scars littered all over his skinny, boney body. Just another reminder of what this bitty has gone through. You look away before it upsets you even more. Once the water is hot enough, Choker carefully slides over the rim and into the sink.

He stops next to the water, sticks his hand under it, then his arm, then his whole body. Once sumbmerged, he grins with pure ecstasy. You watch him play with the water for a few minutes: letting it run into his mouth and gurgling it, splashing it around him, trying to collect it with his hands. It’s pure cuteness. How could anyone harm-

You stop yourself. You can’t think about that right now. Focus on the happy moment.

Grabbing the soap, you hold it above the bitty. “Here Choker, step out of the water for a second so I can squirt this on you.”

He spits out a stream of water before begrudgingly leaving the steaming waterfall. Seeing the bottle he holds his hands out obediently. You squirt a large dollop into them before squeezing just a pinch onto his head as well.

“hey!” he shouts, wiping the dripping soap before it could reach his eye socket. 

You giggle and pick up his clothes. 

“I’ll go wash these while you finish cleaning up. Be sure to scrub everywhere! Your bones better _squeak_ with cleanliness when I get back,” you tease before ducking out of the bathroom.

Walking to the kitchen, you fill a bowl with hot soapy water and dunk the clothes in it. You then head to your room to grab the soiled blankets from the tub and switch them out with a new clean one. Dropping the dirty blankets into your washer, you return to the kitchen to scrub and wring the bitties tattered clothing (blinking back a few tears threatening to spill). You remove the towels from the dryer and toss Choker’s clothing inside. 

Grabbing the basket of still warm towels, you head for the bathroom. You peak your head inside. A skeleton-shaped bubble monster stares at you with it’s red eyelights. You stumble inside, doubled over with laughter. Choker stares at you angrily before diving under the waterfall. Unfortunately for him, the water can only wash away the soap and not the pink on his cheeks. 

“S-sorry Choker,” you gasp, but you’re really only sorry you couldn’t get a picture before he rinsed himself. 

He crosses his arms and doesn’t answer you. Cheeky little thing. You respond by turning off the water.

“ _h-hey!_ ” 

“Sorry, but it’s time to dry off. Here, I’ve got a bitty sized wash cloth just for you,” you say, holding it up as a peace offering.

**Choker’s POV**

He was soaking wet and the sink was smoothe, but Choker managed to pull himself up onto the edge. The slightly soapy water dripped off him and created a puddle, making it dangerously slippery if he wasn’t careful. He yanked the washcloth from your outstretched hand, still stubbornly upset at you. That bath had been the best thing yet- even better than the _pizza!_ And you just had to go and **ruin** it.

But as the washcloth wrapped around him like a warm cocoon, he felt the negativity melt away. He nuzzled his face into it, inhaling deeply the scent of lavender and linen. He didn’t know why the cloth felt so warm, but he didn’t care. It was comforting and protective and made him feel like nothing bad would ever happen to him again. 

He was clean. He was free from the collar. He . . . he was genuinely _happy_. It took all he could to smother the rumbling building in his throat. 

“Choker buddy, you know you’re supposed to dry yourself with that, right?” you say, your voice popping his happy moment.

“yeah,” he grumbles. But even as he reluctantly uses the towel to wipe his bones, he still feels a content hum in his SOUL. Once he’s moderately less wet, he wraps the cloth around himself again despite it’s dampness. 

“Alright Choker, if you’re done now let's head back to my room. I have an idea of what we can do while you’re clothes dry,” you say, holding up the coat pocket in front of him.

He looks at it, then back at his washcloth. It takes him only a second to realise he’d have to leave it behind in order to fit in the pocket. It was a spacious pocket, but not _that_ spacious. He pulls the cloth tighter to himself and doesn’t move.

You notice and smile pityingly. “Sorry Choker, but it’s gotta stay here.” 

“no, i wanna keep it- ya said it was mine didn’t cha?” He took a careful step or two backwards, prepared to doge you if you tried to take it.

Rather, you put your hands on your hips and said firmly but not harshly, “well either you keep the towel and I carry you, or you leave it and ride in the coat. It’s your choice.”

Choker wasn’t sure if it was the amazingly relaxing bath he just had, or the fact that his neck was free from it’s collar, or the warm albeit wet washcloth working it’s protective magic on him. Maybe it was all three combined. Whatever it was, it sent a flush across his cheeks and made him mumble words he never thought he’d say.

“fine, carry me then.”

“Wait, really?” you said, hands dropping in shock. 

“s-sure, whatever,” he muttered looking away. Maybe this was a bad idea. . . 

“Oh. Ok then. Uh, just, hop on whenever you’re ready.”

Choker braces for the feeling of your fingers around him, feeling more panicked each second. He couldn't do this. _Why had he agreed to this? Why-_

-why weren’t you holding him? He turns to you, opening one eye socket. Your hand is a mere inch away from him, laying palm upwards, completely flat and open. It’s not moving. He looks up at you to see you smile at him.

“I said I was gonna carry you, not hold you,” you explain. 

He looks back at the hand. He still had his washcloth- the washcloth would keep ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶g̶e̶r̶s̶ ̶f̶r̶o̶m̶ ̶t̶o̶u̶c̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ him safe. Still, he felt torn now that he was faced with the very real possibility of being held by you- touch or no touch. 

“You can still change your mind if you want, I won’t be offended.”

 **No.**

He wasn’t going to wimp out. He didn’t survive the hellish fighting ring to let his fears get the best of him _now_. If he could survive nearly _dusting_ , then he could sure as hell survive being carried by your scrawny hand. Before he could lose his nerves again, Choker walked over and placed a foot on your middle finger. He heaved his body weight and placed his other foot on your ring finger. Struggling to stand straight without his arms to balance him, he wobbled forward, tripped, and fell flat into your palm.

You stifle a laugh, but kept your hand miraculously still. He quickly twisted himself around toward your fingers and sat promptly on his coccyx, pulling the washcloth closer to his reddening cheeks.

“j-just go already,” he said, frustrated at how nervous he sounded. He wasn’t nervous at all. He was fine.

“Ok,” is all you reply with as you _sloooowwwlly_ raise your palm into the air. 

His flinches and immediately starts panicking. It’s all he can do to not hyperventilate. He’s overcome with a raw, powerful instinct.

_don’t bite the human don’t bite the human don’t bite the human don’t bite bite bite BITE BITE BITE!!!_

The ever shrinking part of him that still thought clearly suddenly gets the bright idea to shove the washcloth into his mouth. His fangs latch on, biting it with all their strength. It’s about as satisfying as biting Rick’s glove, but for the first time Choker doesn’t actually _want_ to bite a human finger. He tells himself it’s because you’d drop him. He keeps his eyes closed, scared what will happen if he looks and sees himself suspended in the air. Choker doesn’t move until he feels his ride land on a solid surface.

“Alright, you can get off now,” you softly whisper. 

He opens his eyes. He’s on your desk, which is littered with books, papers, office supplies, a plant and a dirty laptop. It’s as safe as the rest as your room. Still, he doesn’t _feel_ safe until he’s rolled off your palm and onto the wooden surface, hugging his towel around him. 

“You ok?” you ask gently. 

He looks at his feet. “‘m fine,” he mutters, knowing he looks rattled. 

But he just can’t stop shaking, even though he was no longer sitting on your palm. The palm . . . that you kept completely flat and steady. You never **once** tried to touch him or pet him, and you backed away as soon as he jumped off. Even when you held him in your hand and could do anything you wanted to him . . . you did exactly what _he_ wanted. He stopped trembling.

“really . . . t-thanks . . . carrot,” he said quietly.

You grinned when he said your nickname. It made his SOUL feel a touch warmer to know something he said had made you smile. It felt _weird_. He didn’t like it . . . much. 

“what am i doin’ up here anyways?” he added gruffly, as he looked around at anywhere but your stupid face.

You sit down in your chair and open the laptop. As it’s booting up, you wink mischievously at him and say,”it’s a surprise.”

He glanced nervously at the screen, a million “surprises” running through his head in an instant. 

“w-what kinda surprise?” he asks.

“You’ll see,” you sing as you double click on the internet icon.

Choker gulps and starts to sweat a little. You apparently heard the sound and looked over. Your face suddenly dropped from a pleased smile to a worried frown.

“Oh no, no don’t worry! It’s a good surprise. I didn’t think- look, I was just gonna buy you some bitty clothes, honest! I just wanted to wait until you saw them to tell you.”

He blinked. 

“bitty clothes? f-fer me?”

“Yeah! I mean, you may not end up staying for good, but I can’t let you wear that ripped up outfit while you’re under my care. I’m pretty sure that’s bitty abuse.”

Your smile is genuine and your tone sincere. His mind takes a moment to process that you’re telling him the truth. You had only known him for two days at _most_ and now you were gonna pick out clothes for him like he . . like he was . . . your . . . 

He turned towards the laptop, hoping you wouldn’t notice his dilating eyelights. Crossing his arms as best he could with the washcloth wrapped around him, he huffed, "tch . . whatever, just don’t get me anythin’ stupid.”

“I promise I won’t,” you say, typing in “bitty clothing” into the search engine. Choker had never seen much of the internet and what he had he didn’t clearly remember. It was fascinating to him- to see how just one click made the screen change entirely. One minute it was a white page with blue sentences and the next it was a yellow screen with rows of pictures of Edgy clothes.

“Alrighty, here’s the Edgy outfits. Should we look at daywear or PJ’s first?” you ask, but he barely hears you. 

These clothes . . . he had seen them so many times before. Memories of the Edgies he battled flooded his vision. They wore the same outfits, but unlike the pictures on the screen, they were dirty and ripped with holes and fraying seams. At least, they were, before they crumpled to dust before his eyes.

“Choker! Choker are you ok!?” 

He looks up at you, his eyelights returning, but only the half their normal size. Not giving the screen a second glance, he hesitantly says, “’m-m f-fine. just uh . . . d-don’t like what i’m seein’.” 

You stare at him perplexed for a second more, then turn back to the laptop and open another tab.

“Ok, that’s fine, I’ve got a plan b,” you say, typing said plan into the search bar. 

You click on the sentence that says “Ebay” and a new page appears with a plethora of images. You type “generic diy bitty clothes” and in the blink of an eye socket they appear. It’s not as professional at the official website, but the pictures show just enough of their homemade outfits for Choker to realise he doesn’t recognize any of them. They’re all either plain colors unusual for types (often in shades of pink or neon), or they have funny looking patterns, shapes, or phrases. 

“Here, this one looks nice!” you say, pointing to a bitty-type mannequin that wore an ivy green hoodie, long black sweatpants, and a forest green beanie. 

It _did_ look nice, but Choker wasn’t used to anything besides a t-shirt or tank top.

“dunno . . . not really into hoodies.”

You gasp dramatically, feigning offense. But when he only stares at you unamused, you break character and laugh, “ok ok, but it’s still the middle of winter so you _need_ something warm- bones or no bones. Do you like this one?”

Well, if you were gonna insist on it, “ . . . fine.”

You click it and a 1 pops up by the cart icon.

“Now you need something to wear indoors. Do you see one you want?” You scroll down slowly, letting him take his time to look. Suddenly, he spots an outfit that would be sure to get a reaction from you.

“that one,” he points.

“What? No!” you shout indignantly, your face blushing at the vulgar shirt. “Just. . . no! Why do you even _want_ a shirt that says that?”

“cuz it’s funny,” he smugly grins. At least, it was funny to see you get all uppity over a shirt.

“Well I’m not laughing- and I’m not buying it either! Pick a different one,” you say, trying to sound annoyed but failing to hide your amused smile. 

He looks at the rest but the choices were few and none of them really stand out. They all looked nice and he’d honestly be happy to have anyone one of them. But he hadn’t had the power to choose for himself in so long, he wasn’t sure what to do. Finally you hover your mouse over one and click it.

“How about this one: I’M A REAL **HUMERUS** GUY,” you read, laughing at the pun. “Look, it even comes in green!”

Choker rolls his eyelights, “just cuz i like green don’t mean i wanna wear it all the damn time!”

“I know, but you only have two out of three outfits that are green. You can pick a different color for your PJ’s if you want.”

The bitty looked back at the outfit. It was a pretty basic and unoriginal bone pun, but it had made you crack up. Not that he cared if you liked it, but uh, you were the one paying and he didn’t have a preference so . . .

“tch', get it then, i don't care,” he says as you triumphantly add it to the cart. 

Picking out a pajama outfit was easier since there were only two in stock. He chose the simple yellow top and bottom with orange stripes. Once you added it to the cart, you clicked on the icon and went to check out the items. The total ended up about twenty dollars. You asked if he was ok with his clothes and when he said he was, you immediately clicked the “purchase” button.

“There, it’s done! They should be here by Monday at the earliest. Sorry, but you’ll have to wear your old clothes until then.”

He didn’t care about wearing his old outfit- he had a bigger problem on his mind. He was hesitant to ask you, but you always answered him no matter what so . . . it couldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“um . . . is this gonna cost ya? ta spend money on me?” he asked, fiddling with his digits 

“Oh no, of course not! I know my job is lame but I don’t get paid in pennies. I tend to be frugal and save a lot, but I don’t mind splurging a bit now and then- especially if it’s for a good cause,” you wink.

Choker scratched his head and chuckled, “heh, k. just wonderin’.” He tried not to show how relieved he felt. 

“Speaking of clothes, yours should be dry now. Just sit and tight and I’ll go grab them,” you say, hopping up and trotting out of the room. Choker’s eyelight’s followed you in bewilderment.

You’re such a weird human. Nothing you did made any sense to him. He didn’t like you, but . . he didn’t _hate_ you either, which was a first. How you had managed that was beyond him, but it made you all the more fascinating. Yeah, that's it- he was just . . . _curious_. 

**Reader’s POV**

You grab the bitty clothes from your dryer. You were amazed you didn’t even have to run it for a whole cycle to get them dry- probably had to do with their size. They were so _small_ and that alone made you want to squeal at their cuteness. But remembering they were bought by the same human who bought Choker a shock collar made you want to burn them instead. When the new clothes arrived, you just might. 

Heading back to your room you place them before the still wrapped up bitty. You don’t understand why Choker is so attached to the towel, but it was enough for him to accept riding in your hand. Although the experience had been rough, you felt sure his reaction afterwards meant it was a step forward. Still, you reminded yourself to take it slow and steady if you wanted to win this race- and Choker’s trust.

You sit down and watch him get dressed, ready to look away should he ask you. But he doesn’t seem to mind, or is at least too absorbed in the task to care. As he unswaddles himself and begins slipping on his pants, you can’t help noticing a red gunk stain on the abandoned cloth. The same stain that was on the bandaid. You look back at Choker who is now pulling down his tank top. The red crack is exposed still and it's now dripping more red globs. It kinda makes you sick, but push the feeling down and pull out a fresh bandaind from your drawer.

You unwrap it and hold it out to him. “Here, can I put this on you?” you ask, bracing yourself to be rejected.

He tenses, but with one look at his arm, he holds it out and turns his head away like you were giving him a shot or something. You can’t help grinning. First he let you carry him and now he was letting you bandage him? He was making so much progress in so little time! You try to suppress your excitement as you gently wrap the bandaid around his forearm. He still flinches despite your efforts to be careful. 

“There you go!” you announce cheerfully once you finish. He pulls his arm to his chest and looks up at you.

“t-thanks,” he stiffly says. You figure it’s because he’s not used to such nice treatment. In fact, you’re kinda surprised he’s thanking you at all since he’s an Edgy, but you’ll take it regardless of the reason.

“You’re welcome,” you smile.

But that smiles only serves to hide your rapidly growing concern. That wound looked no different from when you first bandaged it and, despite almost 48 hours of food and sleeping, it still wasn’t healing. You’re confident it’s because he’s not getting the “SOUL time” he needs, but he was still terrified to let you hold him, much less _touch_ him. What could you do about it without breaking the trust you’d built so far?

Instantly, an idea occurs to you. 

“You know, Choker,” you begin, “I once had an injury like yours.”

He only cocked his head and stared at you in disbelief.

“I think I was 16 at the time. I played the sousaphone in my highschool’s marching band and-”

“-what’s a soo-sa-phoone?” he interrupts. 

“Oh, here!” you say, pulling up a picture on your phone for the bitty to see. “That’s a sou-sa-phone.”

He squints at it, then at you. “you played _that?”_

You laugh. “Sure did! They needed someone to play it so I stepped up. It sure gave me a work out though, that’s for sure. Anyway, back to my story. I was playing on the field one night at a football game and it had been raining really hard so the ground was super muddy. About halfway through the performance I slipped and fell flat on my face. The fall ended up breaking my collarbone.”

“ouch,” he grimaced, rubbing his own collarbone.

You chuckle, “yeah, it really hurt- _a lot._ But I didn’t tell anyone I was injured. Instead, I ignored the pain and just got up and continued to play as if nothing had happened.”

His eye sockets widened. “wait, ya broke a bone and kept playing’ that dumbass thing?”

“Uh huh. I didn’t even cry while doing it,” you say, somewhat proud of your pain tolerance.

The bitty must have been impressed as well as his jaw dropped open comically. You guess the amusement showed on your face, because he quickly closes it and looks away, fiening apathy. “that’s . . . that’s stupid."

You cringe slightly. “Yeah, it was. I then made a stupider descision to wait ten minutes after we finished to tell my director I was hurt.”

“why?”

“Because I didn’t want to bother him. I also didn’t tell my band I was hurt because I didn’t want them to stop the whole performance just because I was clumsy. But I didn’t help anyone by doing that. I only made myself suffer more than I would have had to if I had just told them when I first got hurt.”

You pause and the bitty looks away. You guess that from the way he’s hugging his arm he’s figured out where you’re going with your story. Still, you smile and press on.

“I understand what it’s like to be in pain and to keep it to yourself. It’s hard to ask for help, even when you’re really hurt. And I know your experience with humans has been downright awful and I don’t want you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with. Just . . . just know that I’m willing to do _whatever_ you need me to in order for you to get better, okay Choker?”

He glances up, but not at your face. His eyelights rest squarely on your chest. You guess that’s where your “SOUL” is. Hope flutters in your heart, and for a brief moment, you’re sure he’s going to ask to be held close to said SOUL. But instead, he looks away again and lets his arm fall away.

“k, whatever,” he huffs as though you told him to do a chore.

You feel your smile falter, trying not to take his attitude personally. 

_Don’t worry Y/N, you’ll win this little mustard gremlin over eventually. He seems to be ok for now. Just give it time._

Sighing, you turn towards the screen and glance at the time. “Oh gee, is it that late?”

You give the bitty an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry Choker, but I really need to leave. I usually do my grocery shopping for the week on my Saturdays. I should be back in time for lunch though, don’t worry. Are you gonna be ok while I’m gone?”

“yeah, sure,” he shrugged. 

It wasn’t convincing, but you didn’t have a choice. Still, you figured that since he couldn’t escape and no one was expected to visit, he’d probably be ok for an hour. That brought another question to mind.

“What do you want to do while I’m gone? I know you’ve been sleeping a lot, but I’d hate for you to get bored. How about you watch something on my TV or laptop?” you suggest. 

Choker crosses his arms, “tch’ . . . like i wanna watch a bunch of dumb human videos.”

“I think there might be _one_ human you’d like watching,” you grin slyly.

He perks up with curiosity in spite of himself, “really?”

“Yeah. His name is Gordon Ramsey. He’s a british cook and he goes to people’s restaurants and yells and insults their food. There’s a lot of cursing and drama, but by the end of it Gordon shows them how to cook good food which looks _delicious_. They’re about forty minutes long, so by the time you finish an episode I should be back. How about it?”

He stares at you a moment before rolling his eyelights and begrudgingly agrees to watch it. While he’s acting all annoyed and apathetic, you’re pretty sure the show interests him and you’re even more confident he’ll get a kick out of Gordon’s antics. Maybe if he can relate to a human, it’ll soften him a little. Couldn’t hurt to try. You briefly debate offering either the coat or your hand again, but since you don’t want to push him more out of his comfort zone than he already has been, you decide against the latter. Instead, a third option pops into your mind.

You grab the tub and bring it up to the desk, holding it to the edge. “Alrighty then, think you can jump down in here for me?”

He answers by walking over and jumping feet first onto the cushy blankets inside. You smile at him and carefully set it down. Pulling up your Youtube account, you search for one of your favorite Kitchen Nightmare episodes. As soon as it’s loaded and ready to go, you place it inside the tub with the bitty. He backs away from it, nervous but eyeing it curiously. 

“Just press _this_ triangle by swiping the white arrow _here_ with your hand on this pad. That will start the video. It doesn’t have much battery though, so if you finish before I get back, just click over _here_ and press the “Shutdown” button, ok?”

The bitty waves his hand dismissively, his attention fixed solely on the thumbnail. “yeah, sure, got it.”

You smile and grab your purse. Your coat and shoes are at the door and you don’t care how you look where you’re going, so there’s nothing left to do besides flick the light off and shut the door. You do so, hearing the narrator describe the restaurant's predicament as the door closes. You pause a moment to listen when you hear an evil little snicker above the shouting of the restaurant owners. You smile as the door clicks shut. Oh yeah, he’s going to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only Day 2 and look at all the progress that's been made! 
> 
> This is my longest chapter yet, but I couldn't find a good place to make a chapter break, so I hope you all don't mind. Also, I think this is my favorite picture of Choker so far and I'm really proud of how it came out. I just love seeing the smol skelly happy. That being said, next chapter is gonna be a bit stressful for him, and by a bit, I mean a lot. But this is a hurt/comfort story so can't have the comfort without the hurt. 
> 
> Also shout out to AwfulLawful for inspiring Carrot/Reader's collarbone story.


	9. Hot Chocolate Makes Everything Better

“Choker, I’m home!” you call as you stumble through the front door.

With every finger latched in a life-or-death match with your groceries, you raced to your kitchen counter and threw the bags on it. Nursing your sore hands, you consider calling Choker again. But since he could be asleep you decide not to. Instead, you squirm out of your puffy coat and begin hastily shelving the groceries. You'd arrived 30 minutes later than planned, but you were home at last and everything seemed fine, so you didn’t worry . . . much. At least, you’d worry less as soon as you saw Choker safe in his tub.

Once the last can of soup was tossed precariously in the cupboard, you grabbed your purse and headed for the bedroom. You were careful to open the door softly in case he was napping. Tiptoeing over to his tub, you peer inside. Choker lay sprawled out on top of your closed laptop and was snoring lightly. You let out a small gasp at the precious sight. Choker stirs at the sound and squints up at you.

“Hey buddy, I’m back,” you greet him softly. His eyelight’s dilate slightly at the sound of your voice. 

He sits up with a long, sleepy yawn. “what took’ya s’long?” he mumbles.

“Just the weekend traffic, sorry,” you apologize. You reach down slowly and grab the edge of the laptop. Choker takes a moment to process your action before scooting off onto the blanket, allowing you to pick it up. 

“Did you finish the episode while I was gone?” you ask as you walk to your desk.

“yeah, i did. it uh . . . it was ok, i guess,” he said casually.

You grinned, able to read between the lines. “Great! Glad you weren’t bored. So what did you think of Gordon?” 

“uh, i dunno, guess he was fine. sure gave the owner a piece of his mind. their face looked so stupid. heh, that shit was _funny,_ ” he snickered, before muffling it with a cough.

“Yeah, watching Gordon drop truth bombs on those delusional owners is my favorite part too,” you chuckle, lifting up the computer screen and pressing the power button. Choker laughs back before he starts to cough again. It’s a dry cough so you don’t pay it much attention.

Instead, you wait in silence and let your mind wander aimlessly as the laptop boots up. For some reason it’s taking a lot longer than normal. When the black screen eventually lights up with blue, you see a strange white buffering circle, then the computer’s company logo pops up to a musical jingle. You frown. When did your computer start booting up like this? It had been a while since you powered off your laptop, but you didn’t remember it going through these steps beforehand. Anxiety begins to knot in your stomach.

Then the screen changes again. 

“Wait, what?” You mummur. 

The cursor blinks at you from an empty blank box that you’re asked by the text above it to fill in with your username for this new account. You're confused for only a second, when a memory from three years ago suddenly surfaces. You gasp.

“No . . . no no NO, CHOKER WHAT DID YOU **DO!?”** you scream, clutching at your scalp. 

“what?”

Still in panic mode, you grab the laptop and in a single bound you plop down at the foot of the tub, slamming the electronic onto the rim. This startles the bitty, who falls back onto his tailbone with an “oof”. You lean the screen down so Choker could see the damage he had caused.

“You _power washed_ my entire laptop!?” Just saying those words made your stomach twist and threaten you with nausea. 

“i-isn’t that whatcha’ wanted?” he frowned. 

_“No!_ I said press the **Shut Down** button! You set my entire laptop back to _factory mode!”_ You shouted.

He grimaced and shrunk into himself. “n’ th-that’s a bad th-thing?” 

“Of course it is! Everythings gone now! My photos, my files, my passwords and bookmarks- they’re all gone! It’s completely wiped clean!” You pause for a breath.

Choker starts scooting backwards. “i-i didn’t mean t-to-”

“-but I showed you how to power it off! Why on earth did you power wash it, Choker? That can’t just happen by accident! So why?” you choke as your throat tightens. 

“b-but it really _was_ an accident, r-really!” he sputters as his eyelights begin to quiver. “i-i couldn’t remember which b-button ya said ta push n’ so i just c-clicked around n’ i-i saw it s-said “p-power” so i-i pressed it-it n’ it shut off-f so i-i thought i d-did it right. ‘m s-sorry c-carrot, r-really sorry, i-i don’t- i . . . d-don’t b-be mad . . . p-please . . .”

Mad? 

You weren’t _mad_ , were you? 

Upset at having your computer reset? Definitely. 

Annoyed you’d have to fix it? Yes. 

Hurt he did it after all you had done for _him_. A little bit, yeah. 

But he said it was an accident. He said he didn’t know it was the wrong button. You knew he had limited knowledge of electronics, so he’s probably being honest. If so, you could forgive him. He didn’t know. It was just an innocent mistake. 

You weren’t mad . . .

. . . but **he** didn’t know that.

The thought snapped you to your senses. For the first time, you looked closely at the bitty before you. He was cowering against the tub wall with his arms curled over his head. He was shaking all over, just like he had that first night when he thought you were gonna hurt him. He wouldn’t even look at you- he just shut his eyes tight and waited for you to yell at him (or worse, _hurt_ him).

Your heart stops as you realise the horror of your actions. 

Like the idiot you are, you let your emotions get the best of you and now your- this traumatised bitty was reverting back to being terrified of you. You wished the carpet would swallow you up, but no- it remained stubbornly as it was, forcing you to stay and deal with the mess you made. You take a deep, calming breath and start fixing things by closing and setting the laptop on the floor beside you.

“Choker, I . . . I believe you,” you say gently, suppressing the emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

His eye sockets pop open wide. “y-ya d-do?” he whimpers.

You nod and smile. “Yeah, I do. And . . . And I’m sorry for upsetting you. I should have let you explain yourself before assuming you did it on purpose. But because it was an accident, I forgive you, okay? I’m not mad.”

The bitty lets his arms fall and shakily uncurls himself. You keep still and smile sadly, waiting patiently for him to talk. After a moment, he glances away and asks timidly, “b-but what if it wasn’ n’ accident? wh-what if i d-did it on purpose?” 

You pause to think, choosing your words carefully this time. “Well . . . I would be upset and hurt that you'd do something like that. I’d probably be mad too, if I’m being honest. I’m not perfect, Choker- everyone gets angry, even a certain bitty I know. But some people take their anger out on others and hurt them. I’m not like that. When I’m mad, the worst I’ll do is say words I regret. But I _would never_ and _will never_ hurt you, I **promise.** ”

After a pause, you add, “and if you really had done it on purpose, then I’d expect an explanation and an apology. The same goes for me: if I did something to upset you, I’d explain and apologize. And just to be clear, if you kept doing bad things I’d restrict privileges like tv watching until you cleaned up your act. But I would never punish you by doing something cruel like hitting you or not giving you food. That’s not punishment, that’s abuse. And I am never going to abuse you, Choker,” you stress, hoping the sincerity in your tone would be enough to convince him.

The bitty hugged his knees to his chest, resting his head on them as he processed what you said. He wasn't trembling anymore, but he still looked upset. Of course he was- you just yelled and scared him. And now you expect him to believe that you would never hurt him? Yeah right. Your looked away and bit your lip. 

“I really am sorry I upset you Choker,” you continue ruthfully. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that and I’m sorry I scared you. I let my emotions get the better of me. But I don’t care if you messed up _all_ my electronics, I’d still care more about _you._ You matter more to me than any stupid computer.”

Choker finally lifted his eyelights up at you. _”w-why?”_ he asked, his voice cracking.

“Because there are plenty of laptops, but there’s only one of you,” you smile, not caring how cheesy it sounded.

Choker continued to look up at you pitifully as tiny ruby tears fell from his sockets. “n-no, i meant . . . w-why do ya care ‘b-bout me? it d-don’t make any s-sense . . .”

You smile warmly. “Choker sweetie, I care because it’s just in my nature to care. But more specifically, I care about you _because_ of you. I know you’ve been through a lot, but you’re a really great guy.” 

Choker doesn’t respond or even blush when you call him a “great guy” like you thought he might. Instead he frowns and looks away, as if ashamed of something. When he doesn’t break the silence, you take the chance to ask something that’s been eating at you.

“Has . . has no one ever just been kind to you, Choker?”

He scratches his chin, taking a moment to think. “w-well, the humans at the factory were n-nice, but that’s cuz they needed t’sell me. n’ the workers at the center were kind, but that was their job. n’ uh . . l-let’s jus’ say money was a big factor n’ me g-gettin’ adopted . . . “

“Well, lucky for you Choker I don’t want any money- you’re friendship alone is priceless to me,” you grin.

The bitty stares up in shock. You cover your mouth to suppress a giggle but fail. 

“f-friend?” he squeaks.

“What, you didn’t know that? Gee, some friend I am if you didn’t even know that we _were_ friends. Sorry about that.”

Choker doesn’t reply. He merely wipes at the tears on his face with his metacarpal and silently sniffles. He won’t even meet your gaze anymore. No matter what you said to him, it seemed the more you talked, the worse his mood became. You needed to find a different way to make him feel better. Thankfully it didn’t take you long to come up with an idea that you felt confident would work. You stand up and smile down at the confused skeleton.

“Here, I have something that might cheer you up. Just sit tight- I’ll be back in a moment,” you say and head for your kitchen with determined steps.

**Chokers POV**

_Friend._

The word echoed in his skull. You called him your _friend_

Ever since you took him in all he did was demand stuff and cause problems. If he was anything to you, it would was as a burden, not a friend. Yet you called him the latter. And you had made his SOUL flutter with so much hope. Hope that you really meant it deep down. Hope that you really were his friend.

Choker pushed that hope away sourly.

He didn’t have friends. He couldn’t have them even if he wanted to. Not when he was a _cold blooded killer, a dirty bitty duster, **a soul shattering machine**_. Survivors like himself didn’t care about friendship. It was him against the bitter world. Alone. The only reason you naively called him your friend was because you didn’t know who he really was.

But he couldn’t bring himself to tell you. He just wanted to forget his past and pretend the fights never happened. So he kept the “abandoned by owner” front up and hoped you wouldn’t pry too much. Just the thought of you finding out and tossing him into the snow to starve like the murderer he was- it was enough to make his SOUL quake. He really was a coward.

He was so much of a coward, that when you looked at him with those doe-like eyes and told him so innocently that you were his friend, he couldn’t stand it. Shame was a foreign emotion but it was a strong one. So was the guilt at stringing you along into a false trust. He wanted to dust right then and there.

But what did you do? You got up and left to get him something to make _him_ feel better. He didn’t deserve it. He should have told you not to bother. Told you he was fine. But he couldn’t. He wanted you to cheer him up like the selfish bitty he was. As punishment, he decided to wallow in self-disgust and pity as he waited. 

However, that didn’t last very long.

Emotions were exhausting, especially these new ones he still wasn’t quite used to. It took a lot of energy from his SOUL, which was already working overtime due to the magic leaking from the still open cracks. And you did interrupt his pleasantly warm nap. So really it was your fault he dozed off waiting for you. 

“I’m back, Choker! I’ve got something for you- oh! You’re asleep already?”

He opens his eyes half way and scowls up at you. “n-no, i was . . just restin’ my eyelights . . “

“Ok good! This is better hot after all. Here, hold out your hands,” you say, lowering something towards him. 

He grabs the plastic cup from between your digits, slightly proud of himself for not flinching at your hands. He observes it, trying to recognize the object but can’t get his fuzzy memory to work.

“It’s a medicine cup,” you explain. “It was the only thing I had that was small enough. Hope you don’t mind. Now hold it still, this is hot.”

He does as he’s told, more out of curiosity than compliance. You slowly tip a large silver cup overhead of his tiny plastic one, and within a few seconds, a brown steaming liquid begins to pour into it. Once it's full, he lifts the cup up to his nose hole and sniffs it. It’s like nothing he’s ever smelled before. 

“what is’it?” he asks.

“It’s hot cocoa!” you grin, “have you never tried it? It’s amazing! Just be careful ok."

Without hesitation he takes one long, deep gulp from his steaming cup. It’s the most incredible thing he’s ever drank besides mustard! It’s so good he doesn’t even care that his eyelights form into bright red stars.

“Well I guess that answers that question!” you laugh, as he downs the rest of the chocolate drink.

He lifts his empty cup up to you. You take the hint. “Want some more already?” He nods.

As he drinks his second glass of cocoa, you take a sip of your own. The silence between him and you is comfortable, but it also allows time for those pesky emotions to start worming their way to the surface. The winner this time is **guilt**.

“hey . . .” he starts.

“Yeah?”

“i uh . . . ‘m really sorry . . ‘bout yer computer . . .”

Shit, he’s terrible at apologies. You smile so sympathetically at him he has to look away. He doesn’t deserve your pity. 

“It’s ok, Choker, I already said I forgave you. It’s in the past now. Don’t worry about it.”

“o-ok . . ."

“What about you? Are you still upset with me for yelling at you?”

“w-what!?" the bitty sputtered. "course i ain’t upset! i . . . l-like you said, it’s in the past.“

“Then we’re good,” you say matter-of-factly. Like it was the easiest thing in the world for you to just move on. 

“You know, this drink always reminds me of when I was a kid,” you add, changing the subject.

He looks up to see you staring at your beverage. “I used to drink it by the gallons when Christmas rolled around. Mom said I’d get sick of it, but I never did. I probably still drink too much for a grown adult,” you laugh.

Choker chuckled with you. “don’t think i’d get tired of it either.”

“Heh, glad to know I’m not the only child in the room,” you snicker.

“i’m not a kid!” he snaps.

“Oh really ?How old _are_ you then?”

“i . . . i dunno. i’m a year or two old in human years, but i don’t know what that is in bitty years. b-but i’m not like one of yer little human bastards!” he said. Frightening images of grubby toddler hands reaching and squeezing him flashed before his eyelights. 

“No, you’re right, you’re not a kid . . . you’re more like an edgy teenager that doesn’t think it’s ‘a phase’,” you emphasise the last word with air quotes before falling into a fit of laughter.

He grumbles, hiding his red face in his drink. Thankfully it doesn’t take you long to calm down. You sigh and take another drink of cocoa. 

“Hey, Choker, when’s your birthday?” 

The bitty thought for a moment. “dunno. i guess i don’t have a real one since they never tell us when we’re made. most’of the time bitties consider their ‘birthday’ the day that they’re . . . they’re uh . . .” 

Adopted.

Just thinking the word left a sour taste in Choker’s mouth. 

It also triggered memories of his own _unpleasant experience_. Unfortunately for him, he could remember the day clearly and with vibrant detail. And as much as hated to dwell on the worst day of his life, he couldn’t stop his mind from replaying it for him . . .

________________________________________________________________

Edgy 236 sat at the edge of the pen enclosure, his eyelights fixed firmly on the window- or more specifically, the sunrise outside it. While he wouldn’t be caught **dead** admitting it (especially to a shitty Baby Blue), he woke up early every chance he’d got to watch the sun come up. Something about how it lit up the trees and washed the buildings in golden light made him feel . . . hopeful. 

After all, it was a beautiful day outside despite the chilly weather. Humans would swarm the store, some to adopt and some out of curiosity. Maybe, just maybe, today was the day he’d leave with one of them. Even an Edgy like him wasn’t exempt from such daydreams. Of course, reality didn’t go along with his idea as usual, and the whole day passed without a single human ever sparing him a glance. This wasn’t surprising to him. Edgies were becoming less and less popular with everyday humans and Edgy knew the longer he stayed, the less chance he’d have of adoption. 

He tried to not let it bother him. He tried not to get his hopes up only to have them inevitably crushed. But he couldn’t help it, just as he couldn’t help purring when he was happy. What did he ever do to the universe to make it hate him?

Then it happened. 

10 minutes before closing, the shop bell rang and a scrawny man walked inside. Edgy eyed him from his napping place far from the other bitties. Although the man was well dressed with neatly brushed blonde hair, the sunken face and his shifty eyes did seem a little suspicious. But since everything else seemed normal he brushed it off. 

His eyelights followed the man as he made his way over to an employee. Edgy couldn’t make out their conversation but by the store worker’s expression it appeared the man wanted to adopt. Probably looking for some Sansy or maybe a Papy. He turned over and ignored them, trying to snatch a few more moments of sleep. That’s when he noticed a shadow falling over his warm little nest and looked up to see the man and employee looking down into the Edgy pen. He was shocked to say the least. The man had to be in his forties- what would he want with an _Edgy?_

"So this is the one you want, sir?" she asked politely, pointing at _him_

The man's gaze followed. "Yeah, that's the one," he said in a raspy voice.

Something about the way the man looked at him felt off. It was a hard stare with a sickeningly looks of satisfaction in it. It sure didn’t give him the jolt of joy he’d expected to feel at being chosen by a human. Rather, he felt kinda nervous and not in a good way. He sat up hesitantly and looked to the woman for help.

She extended her hand towards him. “Hey Edgy, Mr. Rick here wants to adopt you for his son who is going to college tomorrow. Would you like to go with him?”

Edgy didn’t want to go with this “Rick” guy per se, but the son she mentioned didn’t sound so bad. He excitedly thought of hanging out with a cool teenager, eating greasy food late at night, and keeping him company while he studied or played video games. Of course, these were just speculations and he had no idea what the boy would be like, but at this point he was desperate enough to risk it.

He shrugged casually before jumping into her hand. She carried him carefully as she always did and placed him on the checkout counter. Pulling out some papers and a transport box like the one he rode in to the center, she handed the slumped man a pen. He took it and began scribbling on the lines. Edgy could barely read his handwriting, but only one word mattered to Edgy and that was the shakily written “Choker”.

**Choker.**

That was his name now. He didn’t see many Edgies with that name (most were either the unoriginal Red or Edgy, or had human-type names like Jack or Trent), but he didn’t care- it was _his_ now. And the more he thought about it, the more badass it sounded. Once the man finished all the paperwork, he handed the adoption fee and pen over to the employee, who stashed both away in separate drawers. She then looked over the papers, making sure everything was in order.

Finally she said, “alright Mr. Rick, he’s all yours! I’m sure your son will love him. This Edgy here is one the most laid back Fells we own, so I bet they’ll get along swimmingly.” 

While there was _some_ truth to her statement about his disposition, it was something she said every time an Edgy was sold in order to make the customer feel more comfortable. But from the side-scowl Rick was giving him, Edgy felt it had the opposite effect. But he didn’t care what Rick thought about him- he wasn’t _his_ bitty anyway.

Filing the papers away, the woman turned back to Edgy and opened her hand again. “You ready?” she asked, more as a formality. 

There was no going back now.

Crawling onto her palm, she gave him a light pat on the skull before placing him inside the box. He settled comfortably on the cushion beneath him, thankful for the darkness hiding his dopey grin. This was real! He was finally getting out and going home! It may not be perfect, but _anything_ was better than dusting at an adoption center. He didn’t even care when the man jostled him a bit as he picked up his box. The doorbell’s cheery jingle made his SOUL jolt with surprise. He was outside now- he could hardly believe it! But the rumbling noise of an old truck engine reassured him he was indeed on his way to a new home. So many different emotions flooded him all at once.

He wasn’t sure if he could talk at that moment, but lucky for him Rick seemed the silent type and only talked in order to curse at the cars in front of him. That was fine, Edgy didn’t want to talk to him anyway. He curled cozily into a sleeping position, fantasizing of the human boy awaiting him at home, before falling into a dreamless sleep. 

It seemed no time at all had passed when he was rudely awakened by a light above him. He looked up to see the lid was off and a wooden ceiling was staring down at him. Edgy tried to listen for the voice of Rick or his son, but it was silent save for a faint rustling noise and the howl of wind outside. Was it just him or was it strangely cold for a house? Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he debated whether he should call out to someone or just wait. Suddenly, rough fingers grabbed his torso, keeping his arms locked to his sides. Before he could react, he was helplessly yanked outside. 

“h-hey! what the hell!? what gives?” Edgy shouted angrily at the dumbass who manhandled him. It was Rick. 

Edgy had some very _choice_ words for the bastard, but every last one was choked out when Rick thrusted something around his neck. The object tightened with a snap. As Rick pulled his other hand away, Edgy struggled and squirmed in his grasp, but it was useless. He was suddenly tossed away and struck a hard metal surface with a sickening thud. Never in his life had he been treated so carelessly that he was in more shock than pain. He sat up, grasping first at the thing around his neck. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. It was round, felt like leather, and had jagged spikes sticking out. A **collar.**

Humans often dressed their Edgies in shiny, spiked collars, but Rick wasn’t his human. His magic boiled with anger, but looking up at the human instantly snuffed it out. The man was squatting and inserting a key into a lock. A lock that hung on a cage door. A cage that _he_ was in. 

“what the hell are ya doin’!?” he growled, running to and shaking the narrow bars of his prison. “where’s the kid? ya said he-”

“Listen little shit, I’m only gonna say this once,” Rick interrupted coldy, towering over the bitty with a disinterested scowl. Edgy struggled to maintain his glare.

“I’m your owner. I don’t gotta son. That’s just a story I made up for that bitch to let me buy you. It’s just me n’ you now. This is your new home, so get used to it.”

Edgy backed away from the man and observed his “new home”. It was completely empty save for a measly rag and plastic container filled with water. This was planned. The asshole wasn’t fucking with him- he was serious. Edgy looked back at the human, trying desperately not to panic.

“i . . . i don’t get it,” he growled, though it sounded more like a croak. “whatcha want me fer if there’s no kid?”

“Just shut up!” he angrily yelled, not at all causing Edgy to flinch at his outburst. 

“I have a headache,” he said, rubbing his temple, “and I don’t wanna talk about that right now. I’m gonna go get a drink.”

As the man started to walk away, Edgy bolted for the bars. Pulling at them frantically he screamed, “w-wait, don’t leave me here! lemme out, ya asshole! ya can’t just-”

“I said _shut up Choker_ ,” Rick turned around and spat. Choker growled back. He hated his new name already. 

The man swung open the door, letting the icy weather inside the already frigid shed. He walked through and pivoted back to pull it shut, his shifty eyes narrowing at Choker. 

“I’ll bring you some food later _if_ you behave, so don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” he threatened.

“stop! ya can’t-” the door slammed shut, cutting him off. 

Choker banged his fists against the bars, screaming with rage and panic. “come back here ya bastard! ya motherfucker! come back here! come . . come back here . . . a-asshole! c-come . . . back . . .”

Panting heavily, he leaned against the metal rods for support. He crumpled to his knees, his claws scraping the bars as they slid down. The sound was shrill and painful, but he didn’t care. The reality of the situation was finally beginning to sink in. He was locked in a cage. His new human was a violent asshole. There was no teenager waiting for him. He was alone now. Worst off all, he couldn’t understand why. Why had Rick adopted him? Why was Rick such a jerk when he hadn’t even bitten him. _Why?_

Choker covered his face with his hands. They were shaking. Every single bone in his body was shaking. Panicked thoughts flooded his mind until he couldn’t think straight anymore. He just sat there, trembling and crying bitter, hopeless tears. The anguish threatened to shatter his SOUL. His emotions were suffocating. He couldn’t breathe.

____________________________________________________________________________

He couldn’t breathe.

He . . . _He couldn’t breathe!_

But he could hear your voice. It sounded worried. It was telling him to breathe deeply- in and out, like this. 

He tried, gasping shaky breaths into his tight chest. It was difficult, but he exhaled them slowly like you told him to. He did it again. And again. Then a fourth time. Slowly but surely, breathing became easier and his SOUL stopped humming so loudly. His eyelights steadied, letting him see his still shaking hands clearly. He breathed deeply again, and the shaking lessened. Once he felt more in control of himself, he looked up at you with confusion.

“w-what uh . . . what were we talkin’ about?” he asked hoarsely. 

You knit brows relaxed at his question. “Um, well, I asked you how old you are and-”

“-i remember that-”

“-oh, ok. Then I asked when your birthday was and you said something about bitties considering a certain day their birthday, but you stopped all of a sudden and . . . and then you started panicking. Are you ok now?” you said, rubbing your neck nervously. 

Choker looked back at his drink sheepishly. “yeah, ‘m fine.”

You sighed in relief. He paused, then mumbled, “n’ i was gonna say most bitties make their uh . . . _adoption day_ their ‘birthday’- but i don’t . . . fer reasons. so yeah.”

“What do you consider your birthday?” you ask innocently.

“i don’t 'ave one,” he answered, thankful you steered away from his past. Probably because you were scared he’d freak out again. 

“Oh, really? Well, how about you chose one now?"

He takes a sip of his drink, “tch', don’t wanna.”

“Why not? You can chose any day you want. Even tomrrow!”

Choker spits the liquid back into the cup, coughing. _“w-wh- *cough* -what?”_

“How about we make tomorrow your birthday,” you repeat again once he’s no longer wheezing. “I’ll be home so we can celebrate it together! Nothing big, just a little something fun we can do.”

He glances off to the side. “i . . . dunno. birthdays aren’t that big a deal to bitties ya know.”

“I know, but I think you deserve one. Just a happy day all to yourself. I can even bake you a little treat~” you sing.

“treat?” he says, his eyelights dilating. You . . . would really go out of your way to make something sweet for him?

You nod and place a finger over your lips as you say with a wink, “yep, but it’s a surprise! You’ll have to wait til tomorrow to find out.”

Choker rolls his eyelights before turning back to his drink. "f-fine . . ." You sure like your surprises. It was annoying, but at the same time, maybe it was a little _exciting?_ He didn’t like waiting, but . . . well, he guessed he could tolerate it this time. It better be a damn good treat though. 

After he finished his drink, he handed you the cup. However, you bumped his injured arm as you took it, causing him to uncontrollably cough. After a moment or two, he wiped his mouth with his hand, feeling something chalky on it. Smearing it on to his blanket, he noticed how white and powdery it was.

He panicked and looked up to see if you had noticed too. Fortunately, you were busy finishing off your own drink. When you looked down at him, he couldn’t tell if you saw the dust or not. If you did, you didn’t say anything. Instead you sweetly smiled a smile he didn’t know how much he missed until he’d seen you upset. 

“You look kinda tired. Wanna finish that nap of yours?” you ask. 

Choker nodded and snuggled into the blanket for said nap. You chuckle and go to grab the towel for him. He watches you drape it over the top, then lift up a corner to peer in at him.

“Rest well and get better, bud. I’ll be close by if you need me. Sleep tight Choker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone order another long chapter with emotional break downs? No? Well ok, I'm just gonna leave this here then.
> 
>   
> I do hope you guys are still enjoying this. I know it probably feels a little slow right now, but I promise I'm building towards something that will hopefully pay off. I'm a lover of bitty fluff too and I have some planned soon, but Choker's got some hurdles to jump before he can get there and human temperment is one of them. Fortunately, Carrot passed with . . . well, maybe not _flying_ colors, but colors nonetheless. But since she's still getting the hang of caring for a traumatised bitty, I think we can cut her some slack. Recovery is a slow and long road my dudes. But with Carrot's help I think he'll make it. :3


	10. Bitty's First Birthday

Choker knew he was going to regret this ‘birthday’ idea of yours. 

But he didn’t know _just_ how much until he awoke the next morning. Or more specifically, when he didn’t wake up. At least, not at his usual time. You actually allowed him to sleep in, and when he finally did get up due to hunger pains (which were becoming more frequent with his regular eating), you didn’t even question him about it. Not that you knew something wrong with him, but _still_. 

And your weird behavior continued to get even weirder. 

Instead of telling him what breakfast was, you _asked_ him what he wanted to eat. And when he requested mustard flapjacks again, you were quick to comply and even quicker to make them. You even insisted he eat in his bed for the occasion. Once he finished, you opened your hand again to lift him out- a new ritual that he tolerated so long as you didn’t try to touch him (which you never did). You lowered him to his usual spot on the carpet. 

Then you did the most surprising thing all morning. Apparently, you’d fixed your laptop as best you could yesterday, and instead of banning him from using it ever again, you placed it on the floor in front of him to show him something called “memes”. At first he stood frozen with shock, until a fresh wave of guilt brought him to his senses. He sat as close to you as he dared and glanced nervously at the screen. 

You were oblivious as usual and started rambling on about nonsense in your chipper tone. For the next twenty minutes, you showed him video clips and funny pictures all involving Gordon Ramsey. You cracked up at the “where’s the lamb sauce” and “finally some good fucking food” memes, as well as every other meme. While Choker didn’t really get most of the jokes, your laughter was unfortunately contagious and he couldn't help chuckling along with you.

When you began crying and wheezing from laughing so hard, you stopped and loaded a full length episode of Gordon Ramsey’s TV show _Hell’s Kitchen_ on the screen. Choker struggled to swallow his surprise when you stood to go and make his ‘birthday’ treat, leaving him to watch the video unsupervised. Of course, you did stress that he was not to touch anything under **any** circumstances, but as soon as he agreed to your terms you relaxed and left.

With you gone Choker relaxed a bit and found himself getting invested in the episode. He’d never admit it outloud, but it was kinda fun to just sit and watch this wrinkly human yell and insult other humans. And the food he made looked so good Choker's eyelights dialated at just the sight. He didn’t realise how engrossed he was until you came barging in at random times, forcing him to twist his smile into a scowl. Which wasn’t that hard to do- why did you have to check in on him all the damn time? Can’t you just let him watch his show in peace? You kept making him miss all the good parts with your nonsensical questioning. Did you want him to watch it or not? But after a few unwelcomed visits you finally left him alone. 

Or so he thought. He was halfway through another episode when you interrupted him again with a knock.

“Choker?” you asked through the closed door. 

The bitty rolled his eyelights. “yeah, what is it?” 

“I’ve got your birthday surprise ready, but you’ve got to close your eyes, ok?”

Choker tensed a little. He knew what the surprise was just food, but having to shut his eyes made him feel a tad uneasy. It's not like you were gonna do anything bad to him- you didn’t need his eyes shut to do that. But old habits die hard. Still, he made up his mind to play along- _not_ cuz he trusted your stupid human ass.

“k, fine, they’re closed,” he huffed, squinting his sockets shut. 

“Great!” you sing back, before the door creaks open unusually slow. 

He feels your feet thump against the carpet and hears you giggle as you approach. He was tempted to groan at your antics, but he just sat still with his arms crossed, waiting for you to show him your stupid surprise already. Finally you sat down, still silently chuckling to yourself. It was making him nervou- _it was getting on his nerves!_ He’s about to speak when you suddenly pipe up.

“Ok, you can open your eyes now Choker!”

He does so, before flinching back at the sight before him.

“why the hell is it on fire!?” he nearly shrieks. 

You look down at the burning pastel-colored pole calmly, then look back at him. “Um . . . it’s a birthday candle? You blow it out and make a birthday wish on it,” you say matter-of-factly.

Choker spares a second to curse himself before nervously swallowing. “oh . . yeah . . i knew that.” 

He knew you didn’t believe him, but you graciously dropped the matter as you set the flaming food in front of him. 

“Welp, here you go, hope you like it! Oh- wait! I almost forgot! I have to sing happy birthday to you now,” you grin mischievously, clearing your throat.

_“Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday t-”_

“-stop! stop! i don’t wanna hear any of that shit!” he growled, covering his nonexistent ears. 

You stop, only to start giggling again. “S-sorry Choker, I won’t.”

“good,” he glares.

“But you still have to make a birthday wish! If you don’t, then you'll uh . . . have 7 bad years of luck . . yeah.”

Choker scoffed. He had had more bad luck than any stupid candle could possibly give him. He wasn’t the superstitious kind anyway. Still, this “wish thing” seemed important to you for some reason, so . . .

“whatever. guess it’s less stupid than the song.” 

You grin excitedly. Why the hell did you smile like a dopey idiot at something so babyish? He quickly looked away and focused on the candle in front of him. He considered pretending to make a wish, until one suddenly surfaced from the recesses of his mind. A strong one, filled with hope and fear. One he had worked hard to repress since the first day of this surreal experience.

Sure, it was dumb to think blowing out a candle would make it come true. But ya know, it . . it couldn’t hurt to try, right?

Besides, you were living proof that at least _some_ wishes come true. 

Taking a deep breath, Choker blew it out in one go. 

Before he could smile smugly at his accomplishment, he felt a sharp sting in his SOUL and began coughing into his hands. It only lasted a few seconds, but he looked up at you nervously once he caught his breath. You were still smiling stupidly, waiting for him to calm down. Hopefully you wouldn’t notice him subtly wipe his hand on his pants.

“You ok now?” you ask sweetly.

“yeah.”

“Alrighty. Go ahead and dig in. I’ll just, uh, check my phone while you eat,” you say pulling out your device.

Now that you were distracted, Choker turned his full attention to the dessert. It was made of two parts, one looked sorta like bread while the other was all creamy. His blotchy memory took pity on him and spared him the need to ask what it was. Without hesitation he leaned forward and grabbed the cake part with one claw and the icing with the other, before eating both simultaneously. It tasted even better than it looked! He shoved a couple more mouthfuls in, basking in the blissful taste of cream and sugar and . . . cinnamon? Choker wasn’t great at detecting other flavors besides mustard. Well, whatever it was, it was delicious.

“Enjoy it are we?” you ask him suddenly.

Choker stops mid bite and looks up at your smiling face, which wasn’t all that unusual to see. However, he noticed that you weren’t even looking _at him_ as you asked him that. You were staring at your phone. The phone that was awkwardly positioned out in front of you. He suddenly felt very self conscious, almost like you were looking straight at him . . . but how was that possible? 

He leaned to the side as far he could and scowled. “what ‘r ya doin’?” 

Your grin widened. “Oh, nothing. Just looking at my phone,” you said with a fake innocent tone

“ya suck at lyin’ ya know.”

You pull your eyes away from the screen to look at him directly. They crinkle with amusement. “What _ever_ do you mean?” 

He rolls his eyelight again as he huffs, “yer dumb face gives ya away. now tell me whatcher doin’. it better not be stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid, unless you think of _yourself_ as stupid,” you say, turning the screen towards him.

It’s a picture. It’s a picture of him eating his cupcake. He’s in the middle of stuffing his icing-smeared face, eyelights dilated all big and bright. Could his eyelights even get that large?

He takes one look at your shit-eating grin and growls, “why ‘n the hell did ya do that fer?”

You pull the phone back and look at the picture. “You just looked really cute and I couldn’t help it,” you giggle.

_Cute?_

Choker lifted up a claw, it’s chipped but sharp ends curling towards him. He carefully ran the tips over the scar in his skull, feeling both the roughness of the crack and the unwanted warmth in his cheek. He retracted his hand as if stung.

“yeah well . . . don’t go taken’ anymore. ‘n what flavor is this stuff anyway?” he asked, shoving another moist piece into his mouth. 

You smile, taking the hint. “It’s carrot cake with buttercream icing. It’s all I had on hand. Huh, kinda ironic now that I think about it, since my nickname is ‘carrot’, hehe.”

“That reminds me, I still need to think of a nickname for you,” you add, dipping your finger in his cupcake’s icing.

“hey!” Choker barks, “keep your nasty fingers outta my food!”

You lick the icing off, grinning without a shred of guilt as you say, “sorry, couldn’t help it- buttercream’s my favorite. Don’t worry, I’ll let you eat the rest of it now.”

Choker kept his eyelights on you, but true to your word, you kept your hands and eyes glued to your phone (thankfully not pointed at him anymore) while he devoured his treat. Not that Choker was grateful or anything. He was just pleased you didn’t push your luck. He hadn’t bitten you ( _yet_ ), but he wouldn’t hold back should you push that line. Although, he wondered if you ever would . . .

After a few minutes, the cupcake was nothing but scattered crumbs. Choker leaned back, feeling full and ready for another nap. Overeating always made him sleepy, which was a problem for Rick when he wanted Choker to train afterwards. You, on the other hand, just handed him a napkin and smiled. “Feeling sleepy? Do you wanna nap?”

Choker hid his face in the napkin, hoping you wouldn’t notice his expression. He wasn’t used to a lot of the ways you had been treating him, but what threw him off the most were your words. They were so strikingly different from the way Rick talked, both in content and tone. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

“n-no, ‘m f-fine,” he declined.

With the napkin and plate in hand, you stood up, saying, “ok, well, are you ready for your other surprise then?”

Choker blinked. 

“‘nother one? how many surprises ya got?”

“Just one more! Come on, it’s in my living room,” you say, opening the door wide open. 

Choker expected you to offer a hand or some other carrying device. But no, you just stood there like you were waiting for him to do something. He got to his feet, glancing at the hallway before him. Were you really gonna just . . . let him walk outside? On his own?

You answer his silent question with a nod at the door. “Go on, it’s ok.”

Choker hesitates. “yer not . . .”

“I’m not going to carry you, if that’s what you're asking. You’re a big guy aren’t you? Well, figuratively at least. I mean, I can carry you if you want me to.”

“no, ‘m fine,” he growls

To prove it, he took several decided steps towards the door. He continued walking, careful to keep his clawed phalanges from catching the carpet. He only slowed a little once he reached the doorway, but you kept still and let him pass. 

“It’s right down the hall and to the left,” you smile.

Alarm bells sounded in his head, but he ignored them. He had been doing that a lot lately. It was getting easier than he’d like to admit. So with a sharp inhale, he stepped out into the hall and kept walking, only looking over his shoulder every now and then to see if you were following. You were, but at a comfortable distance- like you were afraid to step on him.

Due to his size, it took a little longer for him to enter the open space of your apartment. But once he did, he could see everything. A kitchen and bar to his right, and a living room space to his left. Flourishing Plants and cheap knick knacks littered both spaces, while the walls were equally cluttered with decorations. Only it didn’t _feel_ cluttered. It felt rather cozy and kinda . . . homey? 

“Like it?” 

Choker jumps a little, and looks up to see you standing in _front_ of him. Shit- how long had you been there? How had he not heard you? He really was losing his edge. 

“it’s . . . nice,” he mumbled, scratching his neck. His collar-free neck. Stars, he’d never get used to how good it felt.

“Your surprise is over there by the couch,” you point. 

He looks at the back of it. He may be freakishly small, but even he can see something weird poking above the top. Walking tentatively towards it, he rounds the sofa to see the weirdest looking mess he’d ever laid eyelights on. There’s two chairs on opposite ends in front of the couch with a ginormous blanket sketching over them for a makeshift roof. Under it are frankly _way_ more pillows and blankets than one human should one own.

Choker stares at it, then back at you. 

“what the hell’s _this_ supposed ta be?” he says, waving his good arm.

“It’s a blanket fort,” you say casually. 

“a what?”

“Blanket fort. It’s just a way to get all cozy and comfy. I was thinking we could sit in it while we watch our movie and drink some more hot cocoa.”

The bitty looks at the fort again. “‘n this is supposed ta be my other surprise?”

“Yep! Do you like it?” you ask, eyes shining.

A soft place to just chill and laze around drinking and watching stuff? 

He **loved** it. 

Maybe the birthday idea wasn't _complete_ shit afterall. 

“yeah, whatever, it’s . . .ok,” he said, controlling his tone. He had less luck with his eyelights.

Choker shuffled over to the nearest pillow. For some reason just the short walk to the living room tired him out already and he was eager to lay down. He started climbing it, but found he could barely keep himself up. His injured arm was stinging so badly from the strain that he considered dropping to the floor.

“Oh here, I can help,” you offer.

Choker’s eyelights shrank.

“no, wait i-” he chokes out before he feels something solid push from underneath him.

Not knowing what else to do, he goes limp, letting whatever it is push him the rest of the way up onto the pillow. He flops haphazardly, but manages to scramble upright. He stares at you, holding his breath, just in time to see you pull your foot back under you.

Hugging your arms you ask sheepishly, “you ok? Sorry, was that too much? I only did it cause you were struggling with your arm. Um . . . Choker?”

“yeah. ‘m ok,” he said dazed.

You smile more genuinely. “Good. You know I’d never hold you unless **absolutely** necessary, right?”

“y-yeah,” was all he could manage.

“Well . . . guess I’ll go make the hot cocoa now. You just get comfy and leave the rest to me.” 

Choker sits frozen until your tall figure is no longer in view. Then he exhales and observes his seating arrangement. It was a fairly plush pillow, and since he didn’t have the energy to climb to a new one, he decided to stay where he was. He patted down the stuffing, careful not to poke it with his claws, and lounged comfortably as he waited for you to return.

**Reader POV**

You approach the fort with one steaming mug for you and a steaming medicine cup for Choker. You even added some mini marshmallows this time. Although, to Choker, they were probably normal sized. How adorable! But even more adorable than that thought, was the skeleton bitty himself currently sitting snugly on the large pillow, clearly enjoying it despite his vague comment. 

You pat yourself on the back for such a great idea. An experience, rather than something material, was easier to give him considering his size. Something to help him feel relaxed and at home with you. Something you both could enjoy together and possibly bond over. The perfect gift. As these thoughts brighten your mood even more, you hand the bitty his cocoa and set yours down. You ask Choker what he’d like to watch, but unsurprisingly he doesn’t have an answer. So now you had to pick the perfect movie for him. 

If you were confident in your gift picking skills, you were even more confident in your movie selecting abilities. You quickly slide in the disk you chose, grab the remote, and sit your own pillow that was only two pillows away from Choker’s. The bitty didn’t seem bothered by your presence and looked up at you with such wide eyelights. You feel your heart swell with affection. 

“what’d ya pick?” he asked, probably a bit more curiously than he meant to. 

“It’s called _Stuart Little_. It’s about a mouse who lives with his human family,” you say, taking a sip from your cocoa.

A tiny creature who gets adopted by loving people? Check. A story about becoming a family? Check. A childhood favorite of yours? Check. Maybe it was a little on the nose, but it was a safe bet. No sappy romance, no easily triggering scenes, and a happy ending for everyone. The perfect film.

Before the movie officially starts, you notice Choker has chugged his cup dry. You go to take it from him so he wouldn’t have to keep holding it. But the minute he lets go, he starts coughing again. What was this, the second- no, third time this morning? The question pricks your paranoia, but you shove the feeling away once the bitty calms down. See, he’s stopped. He’s fine. 

Only he doesn’t stop- not for good anyways. Throughout the movie you hear quiet (sometimes not so quiet) coughs every few scenes or so, and see the bitty double over at times. He barely comments, much less laughs. On top of that, you can’t help noticing how spaced out he looks even when he’s staring straight at the screen. By the third act, he’s sprawled out, head nodding and eyelids drooping. 

“You okay there bud? Are you getting tired, or is the movie that boring?” you tease good-naturedly. 

His sockets widen and his head pops up at your voice. “wha . . . what?” he asks, slurring his words.

You smile, figuring the cozy fort and hot drink have simply worked their magic on the nap-prone bitty. 

“You look tired- do you wanna lay down for a nap?”

The bitty coughs and nods his head, showing no interest in finishing the movie. You’re not offended though, and start to maneuver out of your spot.

“Come on, I’ll walk with you to the tub,” you say, gesturing for him to follow.

The bitty remains sitting and hugs his injured arm. He hesitates, then mutters sleepily, “‘m tired n’ i don’t . . don’t feel like . . . walkin’ . . s-so um . . .”

You decipher what he wants and wordlessly lower a hand to him. He doesn’t even look at you before _literally crawling_ into your palm. He curls into a sleeping position right then and there. You were sure if you left your hand where it was he’d fall asleep within seconds. You bite back a squeal and lift him slowly. It takes all your willpower to not cuddle the sleepy bitty as you carry him to the tub. He doesn’t crawl off it, so you instead angle your palm so that he slides off. He starts coughing again, but your worries lessen when he snuggles into the fabric, now lying perfectly still and peaceful. You lay the towel over top and leave him to complete your movie.

You finish the first and make it halfway through the sequel when you realise it’s lunch time. But when you step into the bedroom to wake Choker, he doesn’t respond to your voice. Since you want to avoid shaking him awake you leave, deciding he’s just in a deep sleep. You make yourself a sandwich and continue watching. You’ll just wait for the bitty to call you when he is ready for food.

But he doesn’t yell your name all afternoon or evening. You put off waking him and work on bills and personal projects in the meantime, but by seven p.m. enough is enough. Rousing the bitty is still hard but you still accomplish your goal. You’re a bit taken back when he declines your offer of food, saying he’s still full from that morning and just wants some more hot cocoa to drink. You give in, mentally noting how little you know about bitties and their non-existent stomachs.

While he drinks you tidy up a bit, but you find it hard to focus with worry festering in your mind. You plan to ask Choker some questions when you go to get his cup, but he’s already fast asleep again. You want to wake him up, but he looks exhuasted. Heading back to the living room, you settle into the fort again to watch another movie until bed. That’s when something catches your eye. The pillow- Choker’s pillow- his sitting spot is smeared with that weird white substance. The same that he not so discreetly wiped on his clothes. What was it? You look closer. Maybe spit? You smell it, but there’s no scent. 

You felt like you were staring at a red flag, but you couldn’t imagine why. Choker was fine, wasn’t he? Aside from the coughing, he slept and ate normally. Well . . . not that you really knew what normal looked like for a bitty. But if he was _really_ hurt, he’d tell you, right? Either way, you were going to talk about it in the morning with him.

You head to bed, leaving the fort intact, deciding to clean it up in the morning. You tiptoe into your room using your phone’s flashlight as a guide and make a quick detour towards Choker’s tub. Lifting the towel, you shine the white beam on Choker, not worried it will wake him since only sounds seem to wake him up. The bitty is curled up like usual with his arms tucked under him. He’s silent and still, but as you keep looking you notice that his breaths are a bit shaky- like he’s having trouble breathing. But since his face was calm and neutral, it couldn’t be anything too serious.

Turning from the tub, you crawl into your own bed and plug in your phone as best you can in complete darkness. You pull the covers up to your nose and close your eyes, ready to welcome sleep’s sweet embrace. But as tired as you felt, something in the back of your mind kept nagging at you, keeping you just out of reach of total unconsciousness. But what could possibly be wrong? You flip onto your side and try ignoring it.

You’re just overthinking things. There’s nothing to be paranoid about. Nothing is wrong. Choker is fine. You’re fine. Just go to sleep already. 

Within minutes, your mind finally surrenders, allowing your body to fall asleep. 

Unfortunately, it was light sleep. You tossed and turned in order to get more comfortable, but all it did was pull you into a half-asleep, half-awake state. The slightest noise threatened to wake you up entirely. You tried your best to push the coughing and groaning out of your mind, but it only made you hyper focus on them more.

Wait . . .

Coughing? Groaning!?

Your eyes shoot open. 

Were you dreaming? Please just be some messed up dream or nightmare. But as you lay perfectly still, you could clearly hear the wheezing grunts of pain. You listened for just a few more seconds, just to be sure. In an instant, you switch on the light, scramble out of bed, and race to the tub. Ripping off the towel, you grip the rim, frozen with horror at the sight before you.

Choker was doubled over, convulsing and coughing in between gasps of pain. One clawed hand was gripping the blanket so tightly it was ripping, while the other was pressed to his chest as though he was trying to hold on to something. Sweat and tears mingled and dripped down into his soaked shirt. You placed a hand against your mouth so that your panicked cry came out more as a frightened squeak. The bitty looked up at you, his eyelights shaking frantically in pain and fear. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by another coughing fit. When he stopped to gasp in a breath, you noticed he had hacked something up onto the blanket. The same white, powdery substance you’d seen on his clothes and his pillow. Only there was a lot more of it now. A **lot** more.

What was it? Why was he coughing it up so much? Was it something like bitty flem? Did he have a cold? But from his shivering and pained whimpers, you knew this was far more serious than a cold. 

You shoved down your panic and anxiety enough to choke out, “Choker, are you ok? What’s wrong? Why are you coughing?”

The bitty recoiled at your voice, looking up timidly, as if he were afraid to tell you. But after coughing again, he grimaced and said in a low, hoarse voice, “m-my my S-SO-UL-L-L- *cough* *cough*”

“Your soul!?” you echoed, now even more confused and panicked. “What’s wrong with it?”

You had read about bitty SOULS on the website, but you couldn’t remember anything about their SOULS causing them to cough like they were _dying._ Yet here he was, quivering and wheezing. He looked mere moments away from falling apart into a pile of bones. Your thoughts trampled over themselves in your attempt to make sense of things.

Choker picked up on your confusion and tried again to explain. This time his expression contorted with even more pain as he gasped, “i’m-i’m *cough* . . . i-it’s d-dus *cough* d-dust-dust-ing” 

Dusting? His soul is dusting? What does that even mean!?

Wait . . . is that what the white substance is? Some sort of weird dust? And it’s coming from his SOUL and making him sick? Why? You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus your frazzled mind. 

You needed to help Choker. Answers later. _Action now._

“Choker I- what do you need? How can I help you!?” you ask, choking back tears. You need to stay calm.

The bitty tilts his skull up at you, eyeing your chest. But before he can say anything he’s back to coughing up more dust. You don’t need him to say anything. It’s clear what he needs from you.

Your SOUL.

But despite the hope rising in your chest, you hesitate a second. You needed to pick him up and hold him, but you had worked so hard to gain what little trust he gave you. Would touching him now throw all of that away? 

The bitty groaned, drawing your attention to him again. 

Even if it did break his trust, he was only going to get worse if you didn’t act now. You made your decision. 

“I’m going to help you Choker, just . . . you need to trust me, okay? I’m going to pick you up now. Don’t be scared! I’m not going to hurt you, I promise,” you say softly but firmly. 

The bitty shrinks at your words but doesn’t make any attempt to argue with you. He can’t even look at you, he’s coughing and crying so much. You swallow a lump of anxiety and take a deep breath. You could do this. Cupping both hands together, you let them slowly down into the tub. Pressing on the blanket beneath him, you carefully slide your fingers under his shaking frame. He doesn’t react at all until the second your fingers curl gently around him. Then he bites onto the finger nearest him. You clench your teeth, determined not to flinch at the sharp pain.

He wasn’t trying to hurt you. He was just scared and in pain. It’s kinda like how pregnant women squeeze their husband's hand when in labor. If Choker needed to bite in order to cope with the situation, then he could keep doing it. However, as you started to lift him up the movement jostled him, causing him to remove his fangs and start another coughing fit. 

“Shhh, it’s ok Choker, it’s ok,” you coo, bringing him swiftly to your chest. 

The moment he made contact, the bitty grabbed onto your shirt just below the neckline. His sharp claws pierced the fabric, scratching your skin, but you ignored the slight sting. You removed one hand, using it to scoot yourself against your bed, before bringing it back to the bitty and rubbing him soothingly.

“It’s alright Choker, I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay now. It’s okay. Just breathe. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Just breathe, in and out. You’re okay. I’m here. You’re okay now.” 

You repeated the comforting phrases over and over, careful to keep your voice soft and low due to the close proximity.

Choker didn’t let go of your shirt, but he didn’t stop coughing either. He was still trembling too, but you couldn’t tell whether it was from you touching him or from the coughing. Either way you kept rubbing his back, not knowing what else to do. Amidst the panic and worry still swishing inside your chest, a sense of calm was slowly growing stronger.

You felt something else as well, though you could hardly describe it. Like something inside of you was reaching out to the bitty, sorta like an invisible hug. And through that hug, feelings of care, affection, peace, and protection were spilling out into . . . something. You suddenly remembered reading about Bitties being able to sense your emotions. So you focused only on the positive ones, hoping it would help to calm Choker.

And it did, at least a little. Within a minute or two his breathing had steadied a bit and his coughing wasn’t nearly as rough. But he still continued to shake and sniffle in pain. You started caressing his skull as you thought of another way to help him. It took a minute, but your tired brain finally remembered something: the music box song! It was a tune you knew by heart.

You certainly didn’t brag about your singing voice, but you felt confident enough to hum it softly. It sounded a little shaky at first, but the more calm you felt the more you hummed it effortlessly. You went through it once, then twice, and then a third time. With each repetition Choker seemed a little better. His breathing slowed and steadied considerably, and the relentless coughing eventually died out. Even his shaking became an occasional shiver.

As you finish humming it a fourth time, you consider what to do next. Whatever was wrong with him seemed to be gone now as far as you could tell. You felt confident he’d make it through the night at least. And now that the panic had faded, you felt fatigue take its place. You sigh wearily, still stroking the bitty in your palm.

“Are you alright now, Choker?” you whisper, wondering if he was asleep he was so still.

But he wasn’t, as his little nod into your shirt indicated.

“Ok, I’ll let you get back to sleep then,” you say, as you start to pry him gently from your chest.

You stop short when the bitty grips the fabric tighter and refuses to let go. 

“n-no . . p-please . . .” he whimpers so softly it’s barely audible. 

You were as dumbfounded as your exhausted mind would let you. You figured he’d be more than happy to be released from your palm. Now he was actually _holding on_ to you? It was confusing, but you were much too tired to try and reason why. You also didn’t feel like protesting his plea, so instead you just pressed him back to your chest.

“Do you wanna sleep with me bud?” you whisper again.

Choker nuzzles into your shirt a bit more before nodding again, a bit stronger this time.

You don’t question it. Holding him tighter, you struggle to your feet and flip off the light. You climb into bed, careful not to jostle the bitty, and pull the covers up to where he lay on your collarbone. Settling into your pillow, you let one hand rest as your side, while the other is positioned behind the bitty with only your thumb lightly stroking his back.

He doesn’t flinch from the touch. Instead, he curls comfortably into your chest and snuggles into the shirt still in his tiny grip. You’re too tired to do anything but smile and sigh contentedly at such cuteness. You force your eyes to stay open a little longer in order to watch the bitty. When you’re sure the slight fall and rise from his chest meant he was fast asleep, you let your own eyelids droop shut. 

The nagging suspicion in your subconscious was gone. Choker was alright now. You smile faintly, warmed by the thought, before finally slipping into deep sleep at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long. I caught a nasty cold and didn’t have the energy or motivation to write for a while. And when I did, the writing came out clunky and I’m still not 100% satisfied with this chapter. But I want to finish this story sooner rather than later, so up it goes!
> 
> Hope you guys are enjoying it! I wouldn’t say the ending here is the climax, but it’s certainly a massive turning point in their relationship. Next chapter will focus more on the fluffy, feel-good aftermath now that a lot of barriers have been broken (not all, but a lot). 
> 
> Also if anyone is wondering why the reader here doesn’t know about dusting and the reasons behind it, it’s because it wasn’t on the main website. I don’t think “bitties turn into dust if they get sick and/or die” is a good marketing strategy. So yeah, the reader is still clueless. Choker has a lot of explaining to do in the morning.


	11. The Calm

As a side sleeper, waking up on your backside was an odd and unfamiliar sensation. You groggily tried adjusting yourself into a more comfortable position, but your neck and limbs felt too stiff to move. Every muscle ached, a light headache throbbed painfully behind your closed eyes, and your fingers were numbingly cold. You subconsciously pull your blanket closer to you, but stop when your hand brushes something. Squinting at the morning light, you peered down at it, forgetting your aches and pains instantly.

Curled up on your chest was Choker, his tiny hands still clinging loosely to your shirt. You barely breathe from fear of waking him. But the slow rise of his chest and his soft expression assured you he was still asleep. Quietly, you let out a sigh of relief. You feel confused at first, until you quickly recall his _episode_ from last night. The memory floods you with several emotions all at once, but the strongest one was elation and a wide grin breaks out on your face.

You had held Choker! He’d gotten the “SOUL time” he needed. And now he was actually sleeping _on_ you, safe and sound. Sure, it took a lot of patience and care on your part, and for him to get awfully sick before he could be near you like this, but you wouldn’t hold it against him. You were just thankful he seemed okay now. 

You lift a finger and begin stroking the bitty’s back, feeling his spine and ribs through the thin shirt. It was like caressing a malnourished kitten in a way. But these bones were unnaturally warm and humming with life. The bitty stirred at your touch before relaxing at the massage and snuggling into your shirt. You take this as a sign to continue. For a few seconds, it was just you and your bitty- nothing else mattered. You did even care how tired and sore you felt. You were utterly content to lay in silence and cuddle the bitty on your chest for the rest of eternity.

Unfortunately, the blissful moment was cut short when you felt Choker stir again. Only this time he didn’t go back to sleep. Instead, he rolled over onto his stomach, causing you to pull your hand away. Pushing his upper body up with one hand and rubbing his face with the other, he let out the _cutest_ yawn you’d ever seen. His sharp fangs didn’t even phase you. Then, blinking his eye sockets open, he focused his bleary eyelights on you. You smiled at the sleepy bitty, somewhat nervous about what his reaction would be.

Hoping you wouldn’t scare him, you softly whisper, “good morning sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

**Choker’s POV**

Warm.

So warm. 

Choker’s bones felt warm. Choker’s SOUL felt warmer. It was like being wrapped up in the towel again, only _better._

The pain was gone. His bones didn’t hurt. His injury didn’t hurt. Not even his SOUL hurt. 

He didn’t want to leave the warm cocoon around his body and SOUL. He didn’t want to feel cold ever again. He didn’t want to wake up.

Something was touching him. 

It was warm too. So soft. So warm. Not as warm as his SOUL though. It rubbed his back. It felt really good. Not as good as his SOUL though.

He didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t want the rubbing to stop. But he couldn’t have both. As the rubbing continued, he started losing his battle with sleep. The rubbing didn’t stop. 

He lost.

Choker turned over. He felt slightly annoyed that the warmth was lessening the more he came to his senses. But there was no going back now. He sat up, rubbing his face and forcing his eyes open. Blinking, he looked around him, wondering idly why everything was so bright. 

He didn’t expect to see your smiling face so close to his. He didn’t expect to wake up curled on your chest. He didn’t . . . he didn’t know **what** he expected, but it sure as hell wasn't _this_

You said something but he didn’t hear you.He jerked backwards and sat on his knees, his whole body tensing up. The warmth was smothered by his growing panic. He was fully awake now, but he still couldn’t think straight.

“wha- i- . . w-w-her-e . .” he stuttered, sweat beading on his temple.

Your brows creased with concern. “Are you ok Choker? Do you not remember what happened last night?”

Last . . . night? 

_Pain. So much pain. He tried sleeping through it, hoping it would be enough to stop it. It wasn’t. He tried holding back the coughing, but it only caused him to wheeze even more. He couldn’t stop hacking up dust._

_And his SOUL. It was shaking so violently, struggling to keep the rest of him stable. He felt sure he’d shatter this time. Not quick and painless at the hands of an opponent. No, this time it would be slow and painful. The death a killer like him deserved._

_But then he remembered a light. And **you.** _

_You had woken up, looking terrified at him. You were confused, but it hurt too much to talk. Still, he tried and you got the message. It started getting harder to focus. The rest came to him in bits and pieces._

_More pain. Something touched him. He bit it, but the movement only made him cough more._

_He was pressed against something. Something soft and warm. He clung to the lifeline with what little strength he had left._

_It was calming. There was more touching. He didn’t bite this time. He faintly heard soft humming. It was all so warm._

_He started to get cold again. He was scared. So scared to leave the warmth. So scared he’d shatter if he did._

_He wouldn’t let go._

_It was so warm. His SOUL wasn’t hurting so much anymore. After that, darkness._

He stared blankly at you as the pieces fell into place. 

You had held him close to your SOUL. You had healed him. You had let him sleep with you. 

“y-yeah- i- remember . . .” he answered slowly, studying your face. He didn’t know what to think much less _feel_ , but at least the panic was subsiding.

Your smile returned and softened. “That’s good. Are . . . you okay now?” 

Your voice was full of care, but Choker didn’t just hear it, he _felt_ it. Your SOUL was practically radiating waves of affectionate concern and love. It was a bit overwhelming, especially since he was so close to it, but he felt his own SOUL glow warmly in response. 

He tried to smile and said, “y-yeah, ‘m fine now. much better a-actually.”

Your SOUL sighed in relief as you sighed aloud. “Thank goodness. I’m so happy you're okay. You . . . you really scared me last night. Mind explaining what all that was?” 

He nodded. He didn’t really want to tell you, but he owed you at least that much.

“Good. But first, let me move so that I can see you better,” you say, pressing a hand against his back.

Maybe he was still sleepily or maybe it was the proximity to your SOUL that kept him calm. Either way, he felt completely relaxed when you lifted him from your chest to your stomach. You scooted yourself up slightly, resting against your pillow and looking down at him. Your hands lay at your side as you quietly waited for him to explain.

Only he didn’t. He wasn’t sure how or even where to start. He scratched his skull, looking for the right words. 

You must have noticed, because you interrupt his thoughts by asking, “were you sick?”

“i . . . w-well, you could say that . . .” 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You looked sick to me. Why else were you coughing and shaking so much? Did you have some sort of ‘bitty cold’?”

“no, ‘course not. bitties don’t get sick like ya humans do.”

“Then what was all that crazy stuff you were coughing up?” 

He hesitated. “it . . . it was dust.”

“That didn’t look like dust to me,” you say, crossing your arms. 

Choker sighed. “ok look . . . i . . . bitties- we’re made a’ magic. our SOUL is too. it’s what keeps ‘r bodies stable n’ allows us to do other shit ‘n stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow. “so . . . you were coughing up _magic_ dust?”

“yeah- no- i- argh!” he facepalms, “yer not getting it! Bitty SOULs are made up’a magic n’ that magic keeps us healthy, but when we lose too much magic or ‘r SOULS shatter, then ‘r bodies turn ta dust.”

“Turn to . . . so . . . you’re saying the dust is-” your voice catches and you stop, looking utterly horrified. “Choker, were you _dying?”_

Choker winces, hugging his injured arm reflexively. “n-no . . n-not really . . .“ 

He avoids your narrowed eyes and adds. “i-i mean . . . m-my arm was leakin’ magic . . n’ my SOUL just couldn’ keep up with it. i thought i could . . . ya know . . . sleep it off, but uh . . i dunno . . . it just got worse . . .”

“How bad was it Choker? Please, be honest.” 

Choker fiddles with his shirt. “p-pretty bad,” he finally mutters.

You sigh, “so, let me get this straight. You were about to turn to _dust_ because your SOUL was weak from your injury?” 

He nodded, hanging his head in shame. 

He expected you to get angry and reprimand him for not telling you sooner. For you to say it was his fault he suffered needlessly when all he needed to do was ask to be held against your SOUL. He wouldn’t like your scolding, but he’d take it. After all, it _was_ his fault.

The silence hung heavily, and for a few seconds, Choker felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Oh Choker . . . I’m _so sorry_ ,” you choked, your voice cracking.

He looked up, surprised to see your eyes watering as you continued. “It’s my fault, I-I didn’t know. I should have researched bitties better. I should have said something earlier, before . . before . . I’m _so sorry._ I was so stupid, I-”

“h-hey! d-don’t say that, yer not stupid!” he yelled hastily, hoping it would keep the tears from falling. “sides, if anyone’s ta blame here, it's me. i . . . should’a told ya what was goin’ on . . . but i couldn’t ‘n . . ‘n ‘m sorry.”

“It’s ok Choker, I understand, “ you say, wiping your eyes. After another moment you sigh and smile weakly. “Look . . . how about we do this. I’ll do a better job of caring for you and . . and do proper research, and _you_ work on being more open and telling me about stuff. You don’t have to tell me _everything_ , just . . . if it involves me, you need to let me know. Does that sound fair?”

Choker hesitated. Talking openly was something Choker struggled with, even before Rick came along and messed him up. But one look at your soft smile told him he could at least _try_. 

He nodded. “yeah, sure.”

Your smile widened at his response. Even though he was on your stomach, he could still feel your SOUL glow warmly with relief and . . . pride? You felt proud of him?

“So . . . how's your injury doing now?" you ask, drawing his eyes to the bandaid.

“it doesn’t hurt much anymore,” he answered truthfully. 

Your curiosity was contagious and prompted him to unwrap the bandage on his radius. The sight causes you both to gasp. The open cracks which had been bleeding red globs of magic were now closed and covered in dry flakes. It would take more than one night near your SOUL to heal them for good, but at least the magic flow had stopped. He presented his arm proudly to you. 

“s-see, it’s almost healed now.”

“Wow, that’s incredible!” you beamed. “You bitties really do heal fast! Does this mean you’re gonna be ok for good now?”

Choker nodded. “yep. ‘m fine. even better actually. here, lemme show you.”

He grinned mischievously as he summoned up his magic and he disappeared from your stomach in a single blip.

When he reappeared on your nightstand, you were staring wide eyed at the vacant spot. Your mouth hung open in disbelief and Choker couldn’t keep from snickering at sight. Your head immediately swiveled toward him, your slack jaw tightening into a grin.

“You can teleport now!?” you squealed.

Choker chuckled smugly, “sure can.”

“Can . . can you do it again?” you ask, just as he hoped you would.

He shrugged. “sure. i can shortcut . . . _here-_ ”

Before you could blink he was standing on your dresser across the room. He waited until you found him to say, “-or _here_ -”

He balanced his weight on the rim of the his tub. “-or _here-_ ”

He stood back on your stomach and panted,“-or _here._ ”

The sudden magic expenditure took a slight toll on his still healing body, but it felt incredibly good to move around so freely. Plus, each shortcut only made you grin wider. Choker was sure that if your human pupils could form stars like his eyelights, they would have already done so. 

You did the next best thing and squished your freckled cheeks before letting out a high-pitched squeal. 

“THIS IS _AMAZING!_ IT’S . . IT’S REAL MAGIC! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! YOU’RE SO COOL!”

Choker sat down to avoid falling over from your excited movements. The gushing compliment dusted his cheeks pink. He needed to think of a distraction quickly.

"tch', if ya thought that was cool, check _these_ out.”

With a flick of his wrist, a blaster and three bones materialised in the air before him. He didn’t want to overdo it with his cracks, but the small display was enough to impress you. Your eyes widened as you tentatively lowered a hand towards the floating objects.

“Wow, are these your . . your ‘attacks’ or something?”

While your reaction was nothing but pure admiration, Choker felt something more sinister as he eyed the bones and beast. Bad memories suddenly surfaced, spoiling his good mood. These were nothing more than reminders of the bitty he is. Right as you're about to touch them, he lets them fade out of existence, provoking a small pout from you. 

“yeah, but they're more like magic tricks than actual attacks. they can’t hurt’cha,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. 

“You mean _you_ can’t hurt me,” you smile smugly. “Admit it Choker, you’re a softy under all that hard bone.”

“i ain’t soft one bit,” he said gravely as unpleasent memories surfaced. But you didn’t know the true meaning behind his words and naively laughed at him.

“Yeah, I know, I know- being an edgelord and all. But despite really being a softy, I think you’re still a pretty cool dude too. With or without your magic tricks,” you said, sounding genuine at the end. The emotions flowing from your SOUL confirmed you were.

Choker rubbed his exposed arm, unsure how to respond as his cheeks flared red once again. That’s when he noticed your hand moving towards the back of his skull. He flinched sideways, but more out of habit than actual fear. You reacted instantly as well, retracting your fingers a few inches away.

You bit your lip. “Sorry, I didn't mean to, I . . . do you not want me to touch you? I won’t if you just say so.”

Choker opened his mouth to speak when the sudden memory of your gentle rubbing stopped him. It . . it had felt really nice and soothing. He . . . wouldn’t _mind_ feeling it again. It’s not like he could do anything to stop you anyway- if you really wanted to, that is. 

“w-whatever . . . i-i don’t care if ya do . . .” he said passively, lowering his skull forward a little- _just in case._

You smile sweetly. “If you say so. Just tell me to stop if you don’t like it.”

Choker held his breath and waited. Within seconds he felt your warm fingers brush his back. He tensed slightly, but as soon as you started rubbing up and down, he relaxed. Closing his eyes, he leaned into the warmth seeping from your hand. It felt almost as good as when you’d done it while he’d rested on your SOUL. Then, just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, you started gently scratching his skull with your nails. It tingled slightly, but he ignored it and focused on the relaxing part of the sensation. _Oh yeah,_ Choker could get used to this. 

He never wanted you to stop and was sorely disappointed when you suddenly did. He looked up to see why, and was confused to see your hand was pressed against your ever growing smile. You looked at him with an indiscernible expression. 

“Ohmygosh Choker! You’re- you’re _purring_ again!” you practically giggle. 

_”p-purring?”_ he squeaks, choking the rumbling in his throat. He grabbed at his shirt, shly ducking his glowing skull. Was one little scratch all it took to get him to do _that?_

“Yeah, it’s absolutely adorable!” you coo, adding to Choker’s embarrassment. 

He noticed your hand approach him again and swatted it weakly away. “s-stop i . . . d-don’t touch me.”

You compiled but kept giggling. “Aww, is someone embarrassed about his cute little purr? It’s ok, don’t worry about it. Everyone’s got their own little quirks. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. Just like you shouldn’t be ashamed of laughing when you find something funny- it’s just your body’s way of reacting!”

Huh, when you put it that way . . . maybe it wasn’t _that_ embarrasing . . . 

“You just have an _awfully cute_ way of reacting,” you add, lightly booping his nasal ridge.

Choker shoved your unwelcome finger away.“f-fuck off! 'n stop pokin’ me with yer grubby digit ‘fore i bite it!” he growled.

“Ok, ok, fine!” you relent. Your playful smile suddenly falls as you look down thoughtfully at one of your hands. 

Choker looks as well, his glare dropping the instant he spies the bite mark. The bite mark _he_ gave you. It didn’t even pierce the skin (just how weak was he last night?), but it probably still hurt you. Anxiety and guilt gripped his SOUL.

“It’s ok Choker,” you say, shaking your hand. “I don’t even feel it anymore. It’s not that bad anyway. I’ve gotten worse cat scratches than this, haha. Don’t worry about it, bud.”

Despite your assurance, Choker did worry just a little bit. He looked off to the side, unsure if he should apologize or not after the threat he’d just made. Sure, he didn’t plan on really following through with said threat, but he needed some leverage or you’d just poke him and pet him whenever you felt like it. 

“Hey, are you ready for breakfast? Cause I’m starving. I was thinking of cooking scrambled eggs this morning. Wanna try some?” you say just a tad too eagerly, drawing him out of his thoughts. 

Choker nodded, meeting your smile with a small one of his own. Even though he still felt a tad bit guilty, he was grateful you changed the subject. Besides, he was kinda hungry himself. 

He teleported off your stomach and let you get up to change. He zipped around the room, occupying himself with exploring places he couldn’t before as you got ready. Sadly he didn’t find anything interesting. When you finally returned from the bathroom, you held at your hand which Choker wordlessly teleported to. It still felt weird to do so, but it was better than walking, which Choker was too ̶l̶a̶z̶y̶ ̶ weak to do. 

Walking into the kitchen, you set him down on the bar and let him watch you cook breakfast, but he quickly lost interest and dozed off. However, the smell of slightly burnt eggs woke him up a few minutes later. Instead of eating in the bedroom like usual, he ate on the counter beside you. While he was scarfing down his meal, you scrolled on your phone, explaining that you were researching bitty facts. You asked him questions from time to time, but he kept his answers short. He was busy eating after all.

Once the dishes were cleared, you set up your phone for him to watch some more _Hell’s Kitchen_ (which was easier to watch on the small phone compared to your laptop’s ginormous screen). You offered to let him sit on the couch, but he declined. He was used to hard surfaces anyway. He was also used to sleeping during most of the day, so while the show was entertaining, he kept catching himself dozing off out of habit. 

Halfway through his third episode, he at some point curled into a fetal position and fell asleep entirely. It wasn’t until you lightly tapped him on the skull that he woke up. For a few seconds he felt dazed and confused, but your smiling face quickly assured him everything was fine. He stood up and stretched as you picked up your phone, turning it off and placing it in your pocket. 

“Are you tired, Choker? Do you wanna take a nap?” you ask sweetly.

Oddly enough, he didn’t really feel tired. And as far as Choker’s splotchy memory could remember, he was _always_ tired. Whether it was exhaustion from fights and lack of food, or just plain boredom, he wasn’t sure. But now he felt not only well rested but energized too. Maybe it had something to do with the SOUL time? 

He smiled casually, scratching his cheek. “nah, ‘m fine. i just tend ta doze off if i sit fer too long." 

“Oh really? Well, how about we play a game together!”

Choker eyes your grinning face suspiciously. “what kinda game?”

“I was thinking we could play ‘Hide-and-Seek’!” 

“ugh, whatcha wanna play that dumbass game fer?” 

You clasp your hands and lean closer. “Because it’ll be fun! You’re so small- I’m sure there's plenty of places you can hide, even in my tiny apartment. If I find you, then I win the round, and if I can’t find you and give up, then you win the round. How about it?” 

Choker crossed his arms. “dunno . . . not really in the mood . . ”

“ _Pleaseee?_ I’ll let you have extra mustard for lunch if you play, promise!” you beg, holding out your hand.

Bribery, huh? It was kinda low, even for you, but he couldn’t resist the temptation of more mustard. 

“fine, whatever . .” he sighed.

“Awesome, thanks Choker!” you say as he steps on to the open palm.

“tch’, ‘m just doin’ it fer the mustard. ya better not go back on that promise,” he glared, jumping off onto the tile flooring. 

“Ok ok- I won’t. Now uh, go hide anywhere you can and I’ll stay here and count to . . um . . sixty? Yeah, sixty. Ok?”

“sure, just start already. n’ cover yer ears too. don’t wantcha cheatin’ and hearin’ me shortcut,” he said, glancing around the room.

You nodded and turned towards the counter, covering your eyes. You started counting, “1 . . 2 . . 3 . . 4 . . .5-”

He quickly short-cutted to the middle of the living room, his SOUL beating rapidly in his chest. He wasn’t particularly interested in winning, but if he couldn’t find a place to hide in time he was going to look pretty stupid. Thankfully it didn’t take long for him to spy the perfect spot: the top of your super tall bookcase. He worked his way up, teleporting to different surfaces like your window sill and mounted TV, until he had a clear shot. When he appeared at his destination, he had to restrain himself from coughing. He'd stirred up the three inch layer of dust that tickled his nasal ridge. Unlike monster dust, the texture was grey and sticky. Still, as disgusting as it was, he walked to the back and leaned against the wall. 

“ . . . 59 . . 60! Ready or not, here I come!” you suddenly shout.

Choker covered his mouth, hoping you wouldn’t hear his snickering. He lay perfectly still as he listened to you walk loudly around the apartment. You neared the bookcase several times and he felt the furniture shake slightly as you rummaged around the lower shelves. But you were too dumb to get a chair and look for him at the top. Seeing you struggle to find him made sitting in the swamp of dust worth every minute of it. 

Five or so minutes tick by when all of a sudden you yell, “alright fine! I give up! Where are you?”

That was his cue to get up and walk to the edge. He saw you standing a few feet away, looking everywhere but _up_. Grinning a shark-tooth grin, he gathered his magic for another teleport. 

“Choker, I’m serious! Come out right n-”

“-why ya yellin’, ‘m right here?” he smirked, leaning casually against the arm of the couch. 

Turning around, you crossed your arms and scowled, but Choker could see the corners of your mouth twitch upwards slightly. 

“Really Choker? Where were you!?” you huffed.

He shrugged. “sorry, can’t tell ya. haven’t’cha played this game before?”

“Ok fine. Just don’t get cocky. You just have beginner's luck, that's all.”

“whatever makes ya feel better carrot.” 

You sigh dejectedly. “Alright, I’m going to count again. And you better not be cheating! No teleporting or whatever- once you pick your spot, you have to stay in it, ok?”

“yeah, yeah, i know, ‘m not cheatin’,” he growled in annoyance. 

He’d won fair and square. It’s not his fault you’re too dumb to grab a ladder. 

He watched you sit on the couch and cover your eyes before counting again. Since you lost, you were probably gonna look much harder this round, so he needed an even better spot. He’d learned from his time in the ring that the best tricks are done right under the opponent’s nose. For this game, that meant hiding under the couch. Fortunately, he found the exposed support beams under the sofa made for an excellent hiding spot. He found the darkest corner just as you started your hunt.

You took much longer this time, most likely to check the nooks and crannies you hadn’t before. Your shadow darkened his hiding space several times, forcing him to shut his eyelights off in case you were to see their red glow. He sweated when you stuck a hand under and barely breathed when you removed the cushions from the wood paneling above. But you never looked _up_ inside the couch, thank the stars.

Choker grinned. Aside from the dusty spaces and adrenaline rushes, he was starting to really like this game.

You, on the other hand, only got increasingly frustrated.

Once you’d searched a few more places in vain, he heard you sigh and call again, “okay fine- I give up! Just come on out already.”

Choker could barely contain his laughter as he crawled out from under the sofa. Once he teleported to the top of the backrest and saw your dumb face behind the kitchen bar swivel around to see his, he couldn’t hold it in. He started laughing so hard he had to latch his claws into the fabric to keep from rolling off. 

“Yeah, yeah- ‘ha ha’- very funny. If I had known you were gonna act like this I wouldn’t have suggested this game,” you said, sounding peeved, but Choker looks up to see you half smiling at him.

Once he caught his breath enough to speak he says smugly, “well ya can always quit and say i won if this game 's too hard fer ya-”

“-No! I can’t quit! Not until I’ve won a round,” You say firmly. You walk around the couch and sit down, pointing a finger dramatically at him. “Prepare yourself tiny edgelord- you’re lucky streak ends now!” 

Choker rolls his eyelights at your theatrics and short-cuts to the floor. 

“sure, whatever. just count already,” he says, even though you’ve already started doing so.

With 57 seconds left to hide, he eyes the apartment once again. He’s already used the best spots in the living room, so he decides to try his luck in your kitchen. He teleports to the fridge, but while hiding behind it was a good idea, he’s repulsed by the idea of getting dusty again. He tries the cupboards and drawers, but they’re too exposing. Standing on the counter, he looks around frantically for a place to hide, when you suddenly stand up.

“-or not, Here I come!” you sing.

_shitshitSHIT!_

He teleports to the closest hiding spot: a narrow space between the wall and your bread container. He wedges himself into it. It’s not the best, but it’ll have to make do. He shrinks into himself and tries to breathe more calmly, but with little luck. His SOUL was beating uncontrollably as his magic pulsated with fear and adrenaline. Your human feet thumped against the tile, growing louder as you neared his hiding spot. It was rattling his bones against the marble counter. At least, he thought it was you doing it. He wasn’t scared. But for some odd reason, he couldn’t focus his eyelights enough to shut them off. So he squeezed his sockets shut instead, allowing the darkness it brought to envelope him. Dark was good. Dark was safe. 

But he _wasn’t_ safe. Although your footsteps stopped, he could hear your breathing in the silence. You were **way** too close. His SOUL beat faster.

You were gonna find him. You _always_ found him. The tracker in his collar always lead you to him no matter where he hid. Not even the dark kept him safe. You were gonna find him and burn his bones with an electric jolt or two as a lesson. Or maybe it was a punishment. Choker didn’t care either way. Then you were gonna pick him up by the throat and throw him back in his cage. Assuming you were in a good mood, that is. 

**But he wasn’t giving up without a fight.**

**Reader’s POV**

You had spied the red glow behind the bread container the moment you turned around. 

You smirk. 

_Third time’s the charm, Y/N!_

Tiptoeing as softly as you can, you make your way over to the counter. Is that rattling you hear? Sounds like Choker knows he’s as good as caught. You stand completely still, letting him sit in torture for a few seconds as pay back for his laughing at you. Stretching your hand slowly towards the container, you grin wider, perhaps a little _too_ eager to rub your victory in his face.

You had a habit of getting caught up in games like these, but hey, it was all in good fun, right?

With one swift motion, you pull the rectangular obstacle away from your victim who is cowering in shame behind it. And here you thought you were dumb for being unable to find the bitty. Well not anymore- his luck had run out and now _you_ were the winner. 

You impulsively threw a finger at his face and gloated, “Aha! Found you! I told you so-ooOOOWOWOW!”

He _bit_ you. 

The bitty actually lunged and clamped his jaw full of sharp teeth around your unfortunately placed finger and bit you **hard**. Hard enough to draw blood, unlike his other bite. You had enough control to keep your hand still despite the sting, but you couldn’t stop the scream from coming out. Your face contorted as you winced in pain; tears pricking at your corneas. 

You inhaled sharply, trying to sound calm. “Choker- ow- sweetie, p-please let go! This _hurts.”_

The bitty eyelights, which had been glaring hatefully at you, suddenly snuffed out, leaving two empty, black sockets. He instantly retracts his fangs, crouching with his mouth open and a blank stare. Before you can ask if he’s alright, he’s gone in a flash of red sparks. You stand there dumbly for a few seconds, the pain snapping you out of your stupor. Grabbing a paper towel, you grip your bleeding finger in it and look around for the bitty. 

You’re about to call out for him when you notice a red glow coming from the crack in the cupboard above you. Pulling the door back a little more, the light reveals the cowering skeleton in the corner with his back to you. He’s trembling as he hugs himself, and the rattling bone sound only increases when he sees you looking at him. His eyelights shrink before he darts behind the stack of dishes. 

Your heart breaks at the sight, and you're tempted to remove the plates and scoop the scared bitty into your embrace. But you know that would only make matters worse right now. You’re not sure why he’s so frightened of you all of a sudden, but you know words are the best way to fix this.

Taking a calming breath, you softly whisper, “Choker . . . sweetie . . . are you okay? You don’t need to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about.” A stray thought of his old abusive owner sends a shiver through you. 

The rattling noise lessens, but there is no other sight or sound of the bitty.

You sigh and try again. “Please Choker, talk to me. I’m not mad, I promise. I just want to help you, but I can’t until you tell me why you’re upset with me. Please . . . come out."

You hold your breath for a few seconds. Finally, you see his bony hands wrap around the rim of the plates. His skull peeks out just enough for you to see one shaking eyelight. 

“y-yer . . . n-not m-mad?” he shakily wimpers. 

You smile softly. “Of course not, buddy.”

He eyes your wrapped up finger guiltily. “b-but i . . i-i _b-bit_ y-you . . .”

“Yes, you did, but I’m not mad about that. I’m confused, sure, but I’m not upset. I know you didn’t do it on purpose, right?”

He shakes his head ‘no’ vigorously, his eye sockets widening in horror. You feel relieved. You were not looking forward to reprimanding him for being a sore loser and biting you on purpose. But if that wasn’t the case, then the likelihood of his out-of-the-blue-biting was probably reactionary to something. And that something was most likely _you_.

You bite your lip. “Was it . . was it something I did? Did I scare you?”

The bitty winces and looks away. Guilt pierces your heart as sharply as if he’d confessed audibly. But this wasn’t about you. You weren’t going to wallow in self pity over another mistake. You took a deep breath to steady your emotions.

“I’m really sorry Choker. I shouldn’t have spooked you like that and made you think I was going to touch you or hurt you. Sure, you shouldn’t have bitten me, but it’s my fault- I pushed you. I’m sorry, I-”

“-y-yer fine, r-really,” he interupts, inching towards you, “i-i just wasn’ thinkin’ straight n’ i . . . ‘m sorry too. i didn’t mean ta bite ya, honest. i-i won’t do it a-again, p-promise. just don’t . . . p-please . . i-i’ll be g-good . . .”

He hangs his head submissively, as if waiting for his sentence to be decided. Was that really what he expected? To be punished? Or did he expect you to get rid of him now that he’d hurt you? Of course, you had no intention of doing either, but Choker didn’t know. Time to fix that.

You held out your not-injured hand to the bitty, who flinched as soon as he noticed it. Holding it still and open, you relaxed your smile, hoping it would have the same effect on him. He did lower his shoulders slightly, but he kept a wary look at your hand.

“It’s ok, Choker, don’t worry. It’ll take a _lot_ more than a few measly bites to get rid of me. I’m afraid you're stuck with me pal-” you pause, then remembering the deal, you add, “-at least, for the next few days.” 

Choker doesn’t respond, but your light and teasing tone work their charm and coax a shaky smile from him. He takes a nervous step, then another, until he’s right next to your palm. He takes one more hesitant look at you as you smile encouragingly, then he crawls onto it. You resist the urge to hug him and slowly lower the bitty onto the counter. You walk over to the sink and reach under it, grabbing a bandaid from your stash (it’s not your fault potatoes are slimy to peel), and wrap one around your injured finger. Looking back at Choker, the bitty’s eyelights quickly dart away from you as he rubs his cracked arm awkwardly. 

The relaxed and laughing bitty from a minute or so ago was gone and you were determined to get him back. Glancing around, your eyes fall on the bread container before brightening with an idea. You force yourself to maintain a straight face as you open the box and pull out two pieces of bread. Turning back to Choker, the bitty watches you lean closer and stands stiffly. 

“uh . . . whatcha doin’ with tha-AAH!” he jolts in surprise, but you hold him in place as you gently press the slices on either side of his squishy face. 

“What are you?” you yell (not too loudly) and comically scrunch your face to look angry. 

The bitty stares in shock, trying to process the situation. But after a few tense seconds, his eyelights widen with recognition. The smile you hoped for appears, although slightly weaker than anticipated.

“a-an idiot s-sandwich?” he sheepishly says. 

You nod approvingly at the reference. “Yes, but what _kind_ of sandwich?” you grin, ready to milk the joke for all its worth.

The bitty fidgets, trying to come up with the answer. “uh . . . ‘m not . . sure?”

“A **SANS** -wich!” you giggle.

The pun works. Choker’s eyelights dilate and the grin gets wider. He starts chuckling, until he’s all out laughing over the stupid joke and bending over as he struggles for breath. You join in, your legs also feeling weak as you gasp for air. You calm down first and smile proudly at the now relaxed, albeit wheezing, bitty. 

You notice the bread still in your hands. Although it was smooshed in places, it was still edible, and reminded you of the slight hunger gnawing at your stomach. You grab a plate and set them on it, before looking at Choker. 

“I think it’s time to eat something. How does a nice _sans-_ wich sound?” you chuckle, unable to help yourself.

The bitty laughs back, “sure, but you must _ard_ remember yer promise.”

You roll your eyes as you open the fridge. “Yeah, don’t worry, you can have the whole bottle for all I care. But once it’s gone, it’s _gone_ , ok? Also, that was a terrible pun. I shouldn’t let you have any just for saying that.”

“says the human who used a shitty pun twice inna row,” he smirks.

You smirk back. “Touche.”

A few minutes later, you were halfway through your first sandwich while Choker was already wolfing down his second, when you heard a muffled noise at the door. You walk over to investigate and find a small package sitting at your doorstep. Quickly shutting the door to keep the heat from turning on, you return to the counter and set the box before the bitty.

“wash’ thisth?” he asks, mustard spilling from his stuffed mouth.

“It’s the clothes I ordered for you!” you grin. 

Choker swallows and wipes his mouth as he stands up. “damn, that was fast.”

“That’s the beauty of two day shipping! Now wait right here while I grab a knife to-”

“-no need,” he grins, holding up a hand. “i’ve got this.”

Before you can object, the bitty teleports to the top of the box. He slashes his little claw at the tape and walks down the length of the flaps, cutting it open as he goes. Once he finishes he stands proudly, rubbing his claw on his shirt. You stare down at the cleanly ripped package.

“Wow, your hands sure are pretty sharp, huh?” you say, somewhat impressed.

“uh . . yeah . . guess so,” he says, looking down at his claw. His expression darkens a little and he’s no longer smirking. Had you offended him somehow?

You quickly add cheerfully, “I wish I had nails like that! I bet you can open all sorts of things with those: letters, presents, locks, that stupid plastic container toothbrushes come in, zip ties-”

“-hey, don’t be gettin’ any ideas! ‘m not yer personal package opener ‘r anythin’. i only opened this one cuz it’s mine,” he said gruffly, now annoyed instead of sad. 

“Ok fine. But it sure would come in _handy_ if you helped me out sometimes,” you smirk, wiggling your eyebrows. 

The bitty chuckled and gave a relaxed smirk of his own. “tch’, s’that the best ya got? yer shit at puns, no offence.”

“Hey, at least I put effort into mine!” you huff playfully. 

Choker just shrugs. “don’t need ta. it’s as easy as breathin’.”

Folding your hands you bow forward and say with mock reverence, “please, teach me your ways, oh great punning master.”

“ _pfft_ , no way!” 

“Aw, why not? I think you’d make a great _sans_ -sei,” you wink.

The bitty groaned, but you could see the amusement in his eyelights. “see, that right there- ya can’t keep usin’ the same pun over ‘n over or ya wear it out!”

“Is that so?” you say, looking around, “Gimme a sec, I need to write that down.” 

“what- no! don’t . . ugh, nevermind. r’ ya gonna get the clothes out or ya just gonna stand there like a dumbass?” he demanded, crossing his arms again.

“Fine, fine, I’m getting them,” you say, tucking the idea away for later. Puns weren’t your go-to-humor, but if they made Choker laugh then you really were going to become a true pun master. 

But for now you focus on opening the flaps and pulling out three baggies with a pair of clothes inside each of them. Thankfully the plastic is easy enough to rip without a knife, allowing you to open them quickly and remove the outfits. You set them in front of the bright-eyed Choker who is already undressing. Apparently he still had a bit of luck left because all the clothes somehow fit him _perfectly._ He wanted to wear the pajamas, but you refused to let him ruin them before bed, so he settled on wearing the pun shirt and shorts.

You opened your phone’s camera so he could see how he looked. He grinned a genuine smile as he observed himself, turning this way and that and feeling the soft, clean shirt between his phalanges. Your heart melted at the sight. Aside from the cracks and chips on his body, Choker looked unlike the ragged, collared soul you’d saved a few days ago and more like a normal bitty. You smile warmly at him.

“That looks great on you, Choker,” you say, putting away your phone.

The bitty blushes slightly at the complement. “y-yeah, well, sure is mor’ comfy than what i was wearin’. thanks, carrot.”

You smile wider at the nickname; it was really growing on you. “Sure thing, Choker.”

Glancing over at the clothes he discarded, your smile slips just a bit. Turning to the bitty you say, “Hey, why don’t you head over to the fort and I’ll put away your new outfits and uh . . throw away your old one, okay?”

Choker nodded. You watched in awe as the bitty walked to the edge of the counter before disappearing and reappearing on the floor. You’d never get tired of watching that. But you knew Choker didn’t like to be stared at so you turned to grab the old clothes in one hand and the new in the other. The former was angrily thrown into the garbage. If only you could throw the one who bought the clothes in there as well. 

After taking the brand new bitty clothes to your bedroom and placing them in his tub, you return to the living room. You find the bitty has settled himself comfortably on the same pillow as before, so you take your old seat as well. Seeing Choker sitting laid back and wearing casual clothing tempts you to take another picture to remember this sweet moment, but the bitty’s eyelights are on you before you can reach for your phone.

“so, whatcha wanna do?” he drawls.

“I was thinking we could watch another movie. You fell asleep last time and I really want you to enjoy watching something in the fort before I take it down,” you explain.

His sockets widen, looking at you with betrayal. “b-but, i thought ya said this was my birth-er, gift? why ‘r ya gonna take it down?”

You smother a laugh. “Sorry Choker, but that’s just what you do with blanket forts. You put them up, have some fun, then take them down. I can’t have my living room this messy all the time.”

“oh . . . ok,” he says quietly, looking away from you. 

“I’m sorry, Choker, really. I can always put up one another time!” you hastily add.

“whatever, i don’t give a shit,” he says, as his eyelights soften. “just . . . start the damn movie already will ya .”

You were used to his antics by now and only chuckled at them. 

“Alright, but you’ve gotta stay awake this time. I think you’ll really like this one,” you grin innocently enough. 

Choker’s POV

Twenty minutes in and Choker feels like he’s about to dust from boredom. The movie is the sequel to the one you and him watched yesterday- the same one that he barely remembered anything about. He recognized the rat character, but that was about it. He didn’t care about their petty family drama and while the falcon chasing scene was a little entertaining, it quickly went back to playing the same mushy, sappy nonsense.

Okay . . .

. . . so _maybe_ seeing the bird with an injured wing reminded him of his own injured radius. And the way the rat rescued her from the falcon, only to bring her home, patch her up, and offer her a place to say- it _kinda_ reminded him of you. Of the same kindness you showed him. **But** it was still really boring and way too _feely_ for his taste. It didn’t help that he was starting to get sleepy agai-

“Choker, are you dozing off already?” He jerked his head up at your voice. 

Tensing slightly at being caught, he says, “n-nah, i’m just a . . . gettin’ comfy.”

“Pfft, ok, if you say so,” you snicker, turning your attention back to the screen. 

Choker looked back as well. The movie rolled on, but he’d lost all interest in it now. His full HP from the two turkey sandwiches, the new, soft clothing, and the cushy pillow under him were relaxing. A little _too_ relaxing. He wanted nothing more than to nod off and nap right then and there. And he probably would have if something weren’t stopping him. 

He couldn’t figure out why, but the thought of falling asleep on this plush cushion didn’t feel quite right. It felt weirdly cold- like something was missing. He hugged his arms to his chest, lost in thought as to what could be bothering him. He didn’t know when his eyelights had subconsciously flickered over to your chest, but you seemed to notice the moment he’d done so.

“Do you want something Choker?” you ask hesitantly.

The bitty looks away immediately, hunching his shoulders. “no, ‘m fine,” he responds sharply.

After a moment's pause, he hears you say softly but firmly, “Ok . . but if you want or need anything, just tell me, okay? Remember what we agreed to do this morning?”

“y-yeah . . .” he mutters. 

He did remember. But how could he ask for something so selfish after he’d bitten **̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶h̶u̶m̶a̶n̶** you? He didn’t deserve to nap comfortably next to your SOUL after that. Even if you had forgiven him and brushed it off- it didn’t mean you wanted him anywhere near you. Not that he’d blame you.

“Well . . . I won’t force you to tell me, but feel free to ask me something if you need too.”

Guilt churns in his SOUL, but so does the strong desire to nap with you. And although the dark memory of biting you replayed in his head, so did the memory of falling asleep beside your warm SOUL. He fights the temptation to ask for a few more seconds, before sighing and giving in. The worst you could do is just . . tell him ‘no’ . . _right?_

Choker twists his torso to face you, but awkwardly glances down at his fists. “hey, uh, carrots? i uh, actually do, have somethin’ . . ya know . . ta ask ya . . .”

He feels your eyes on him- looking _through_ him. “Yes, what is it?”

Inhaling sharply, he looks up into your eyes, hoping his own eyelights don’t betray how desperately he wants you to say yes. “i- i . . . uh, could i . . um. ‘m k-kinda tired. do ya mind if i . . .”

He trails off, unsure how to tell you he wants to be cuddled and held close to your SOUL while he naps without sounding all clingy and pathetic. So he lets his eyelights fall to your chest and do the talking for him. Like he figured, you see the hint and smile knowingly. 

“Do you need some SOUL time?” you ask sweetly, cocking your head.

Yes, he needed SOUL time. Every bitty _needed_ SOUL time, as it was how they kept from turning to literal dust. But Choker didn’t just need it- he _wanted_ it. But- _another stab of guilt_ -he wasn’t sure **you** wanted it too. 

He scratched the back of his skull. “y-yes, well, i m-mean, ya don’t gotta if ya don’t wanna. i-i’ll be fine for a little longer if yer-”

“-I’m fine, Choker,” you laugh lightly. “I don’t mind, really. Here, hop on.”

Choker stares in disbelief at the hand held only an inch or so in front of him. But one look at your easy-going smile and the genuine warmth in your eyes disperses all doubt. You weren’t doing this out of pity or some sense of duty. You really were okay with holding a broken, murderous bitty close to that bright SOUL of yours.

He returned your smile before timidly placing a hand on your pointer finger. When you didn’t pull away, he climbed into your palm. Scooting into a more laid-back position, you raised your hand to your chest. Choker slid off and clung to your shirt collar for support as he curled into a sleeping position. He tensed uncomfortably for a few seconds, but the awkwardness was quickly melted by the calming warmth of your SOUL.

"t-thanks," he mumbled sleepily.

"Your welcome, Choker," you whisper back.

 _This_ is what he had been missing. Not just for his nap, but for his whole, albeit short, life. Sleeping with other bitties felt lukewarm compared to this, and after spending a more than a year numbing the cold ache for a human SOUL with the pills Rick bought for him, the real deal felt like the _fucking sun._

He snuggled into your chest and sighed, his conscience slowly fading out. He felt the slight brush of your finger up and down his back. Instead of keeping him awake this time, it only relaxed him more. So much for watching the movie. But at the moment Choker didn’t care about anything but sleep. He barely even noticed the soft purr rumble through him before slipping into dreamland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter I've written so far.
> 
> Most chapters center around each day, but the day is split into 2 parts, so 2 chapters equal single day. But this day was mostly just fluff, save for the bitting incident, and it didn't feel right to split it. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this easy going chapter. I enjoyed writing it, although fluff takes longer for me to write for some reason. But next chapter isn't going to be all fun and games. 
> 
> ̶i̶ ̶s̶w̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶s̶t̶o̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶h̶a̶p̶p̶y̶ ̶e̶n̶d̶i̶n̶g̶
> 
> Also, here's a pic of Choker wearing all his new outfits.
> 
> pic your fave mine is hoodie Choker :3


	12. The Storm

You awoke Tuesday morning with your heart pounding as the alarm you set on your phone screams at you. After sleeping past eight for several days in a row, you weren’t mentally prepared for the alarm’s unwelcome return at seven a.m. Rolling over, you hit snooze and snuggle father under the covers.

“hey, carrot? . . . ‘r ya awake?” a hoarse voice half-whispered, half-yelled.

You open one eye, barely able to see in the pitch black darkness. 

“Yeah, Choker, what is it?” you answer listly, hiding how grumpy you felt. You don't want Choker to think it was his fault you woke up in a sour mood.

“what . . what the hell was _that?_ ”

“Just my alarm,” you yawn.

“yer alarm? what fer?”

“Uh, to wake me up for work.”

“oh . . .” he faltered, then went quiet. 

You sighed internally. If Choker was awake now, you couldn’t just lay around in bed. Well, you could, but you wouldn’t get any sleep from it. And you couldn’t afford to be lazy today. So you forced yourself to sit up and slip out of your cozy bed. Flipping on a light, you stretch and walk over to the tub, feeling slightly better at the sight of the bitty. He was glaring at you, sleepily rubbing one of his sockets.

“Good morning sleepy bones, hope you slept well. I’m sorry to wake you up so early,” you apologised. 

“tch’, whatever. i don’t understand why ya gotta get up. ain’t even light out yet,” he grumbled. 

“It’s seven in the morning, Choker- the only reason it’s still dark out is ‘cause it’s winter.”

The bitty mutters something under his breath that you can’t make out. As you make your bed, you add, “I have to get up this early since I have to be at work at nine.”

You finish your task and start picking out your clothes when Choker suddenly asks, “wait . . ain’t it tuesday?”

“Yeah?”

“but . . why didn’t ya go work yesterday then? aren’t’cha humans supposed ta work five days a week?”

“Not all humans,” you say, repressing a laugh, “but yeah, I do usually work five days. But I texted my boss and told her I was sick yesterday.”

“why’da do that? ya didn’t act like ya were sick?” he asked, teleporting to the dresser surface in front of you, still sporting his yellow and orange-striped pyjamas. It startled you, but you quickly regained your composer. 

“I wasn’t. I used it as an excuse to get the day off. And it wasn’t a complete lie- _you were_ sick the night before. I couldn’t just leave you alone after that, so I took the day off to be with you and make sure you were okay.”

The bitty looked unsettled and glanced away. “ya didn’t . . . i was fine. ya didn’t have ta do that.”

You smile sympathetically. “Don’t worry about it Choker, I was happy to take it off! I haven’t used many sick days anyway, so it’s no biggie. I’m not going to lose my job anytime soon. Besides, you’re my top priority right now.”

His eyelights dilated, but he quickly snapped his dopey smile into a smirk. “oh yeah? then how ‘bout’cha make me somethin’ ta eat since yer up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, I will, just let me get ready first, then we can _both_ have breakfast.”

Grabbing the last article of clothing, you head for the bathroom to change, chuckling as you hear the bitty call after you, “‘n ya better make somethin’ good fer waken’ me up so early!”

_______________________________________________________________________________________

After a simple breakfast of sausage and day-old bagels, you burned your spare time on your laptop while the bitty sat on the counter beside you and watched videos on your phone. You glanced at the clock. Was it that late already? Alright, time to stop procrastinating and get it over with. Pushing your chair back, you sigh loudly, attracting the bitty’s attention. 

“Ok Choker, so here's the deal,” you start firmly. “I’ve got to go to work in a little bit here and I won’t be back until five, so that’s about eight hours. It’s a little late to text my boss about bringing you with me, so unless you’re 100% _not okay_ with staying here alone, you’ll have to do just that.”

The bitty leaned back and shrugged. “nah, it’s fine. i’d rather stay here than be near any humans. one s’nough fer me.”

You’re not sure how to take his comment, but you smiled all the same. “Ok, well that solves that problem. But now there’s the issue of what you can do while I’m gone. I’m not confident leaving you home alone with my laptop when I’m not here to help you. But you’re free to watch movies or play with anything around the apartment- just so long as you don’t make a mess. And you can read books too. Do you like reading?”

“eh, sorta, i guess. s'long as it ain’t borin’.” 

“Ok well, you’re free to read anything you like. And . . and, well . . what else do you do like to do?” you ask, wondering if the bitty even had any hobbies.

He scratched his chin. “eh . . . i usually just sleep.” 

“Why am I not surprised,” you smirk. Although, it did seem odd that the bitty slept so much, even though he was doing much better than now he'd had SOUL time. Maybe bitties were like cats and needed sixteen hours of sleep? Something else to add to your ever growing list of things to research. 

Choker’s chuckle drew you from your pool of thoughts. “heh, don’t knock it til ya try it.”

“I wish,” you groan, dramatically letting your head fall back. “Staying home and doing nothing but sleeping and eating would be a dream come true.”

“i guess . . . gets a little old after’a while though . . .” Choker mumbles. 

You look down at him. His zoned out stare reminds you how little you truly know about him. The thought saddens you a bit, but you brush it off. It didn’t matter anyway. What mattered was making sure this bitty had a bright and happy future. 

You clear your throat of the awkward lump and continue more cheerfully, “Anyway, I can make you a sandwich and leave it on the counter for when you get hungry. Does that sound good?”

The bitty looks at you and nods, but you’re not fully convinced he fully heard you. Worry bubbles it’s way to the surface of your mind and you can’t help the frown forming on your face. The bitty notices and looks at you with concern. You let out a sigh.

“Will you really be okay by yourself here Choker? I can still stay home if you want me to,” you ask, suppressing the urge to text your boss right then and there.

Choker’s relaxed smile returns as he says, “‘m fine, don’t worry. go to yer job. can’t buy me more mustard without it, ya know.”

“What is it with you and mustard?” you ask, playfully poking the cheeky skeleton, who in turn rubs the offended cheek and glares half-heartedly at you. 

“dunno, just tastes good,” is his lazy answer. 

“Says the skeleton without a tongue,” you tease. But despite your smile, your stomach twists with unease. 

You ignore it in favor of preparing the bitty’s food for him, turning the heater to a comfortable temperature, and setting out discs for him to easily insert into your DVD player. But when you grab your keys and open the door to leave, the anxiety returns with such force that you’re rooted to the spot. Only after Choker rolled his eyelights and told you to _just go already_ did you finally cross the threshold. You locked the door behind you, giving it an extra jiggle for good measure. You hadn’t had any break-ins since moving into the apartment two years ago, but you weren’t going to risk it now.

Your paranoia only increased the farther away from the complex you got. Even the music on your car’s radio wasn’t enough to distract you from the influx of baseless worries. You had to remind yourself every time you felt the urge to drive back that Choker was _fine_ , you were _fine_ , and that everything else would be just _fine_. You had almost convinced yourself by the time you finally reached at your destination. At the very least, you felt less like a nervous wreck as you walked into the brick building. 

As the first to arrive, it was your job to get the library ready for the day. You distracted yourself with the familiar tasks of checking in returned books and turning on the computers, not even thinking of the bitty once. In fact, you were so engrossed in your work that you hadn’t even noticed your boss walk through the door behind you. You whirled around in surprise at the old lady’s friendly greeting, dropping the book in your hand.

“Oh! Good morning Janet! Sorry, you scared me there for a second,” you said sheepishly, going to pick up the item.

The grey haired lady laughed warmly. “It’s okay sweetie, don’t worry. How are you feeling today?” 

“Oh, much better, thank you,” you answer, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

“I’m glad to hear that! Although, you still look a bit tired dear. Are you not sleeping well?” she said, her voice full of grandmotherly-concern that it makes you smile. 

“Um, well, sorta . . .” you falter, fumbling for an excuse for the bags under your eyes. It would be easy enough to blame it on your “illness”, but you didn’t see any reason to lie to Janet more than you had too. 

"Actually . . . I’ve been kinda busy this weekend. I found an abandoned bitty on the road last Thursday and I’ve been taking care of him since then. He, uh, was injured pretty badly.” 

Janet gasped. “Oh! That’s awful! The poor thing. Is he going to be alright?”

“I think so,” you say, with an unusual amount of confidence in your voice. “He’s a rather stubborn guy, so I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

The old woman’s smile returned and she nodded. “That’s good. I don’t know much about these “bitty” creatures, but when I took in poor little Daisy, she was a stubborn little thing too. It took her a whole week until she’d let me pet her, the poor dear was so scared. But she was a fighter and it was worth all the trouble in the end.”

You watch as she stares distantly behind you, no doubt reminiscing over her rescue dog. It was heartwarming, but part of you felt uncomfortable with her drawing comparisons between Choker and her pet. Because now that you thought about it, Choker isn’t really a pet. He’s much more like something between a needy child who wants cuddles and an angsty teenager who's emotionally constipated. But you kept your opinion to yourself like you always did.

"Well, you helped her a lot. I’m sure that played a big role in her recovery,” you say politely.

Janet chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure it did. Just as I’m sure you're helping your little guy a lot as well, if your appearance is anything to go by,” she winked.

You bashfully direct your attention to another task, unsure how to respond. After a moment you mutter, “yeah, well . . . I just do what I can.”

Janet walked up to you and reached up to lightly squeeze your shoulder, dangling a key ring in her other hand. “That’s all you _can_ do, Y/N. Just do your best and hope that with time everything will work out.” 

You stood lost in thought as the woman waddled away to unlock the front doors. Your mistakes over the weekend still haunted you (especially the one that almost cost Choker’s **life** ), but her words made you consider that perhaps you _have_ been trying your best. Is it enough? Probably not. But Janet was right: all you could do was keep trying your best and hope it _would_ be enough.

With the optimistic thought tucked safely away, you mentally prepared yourself for the crowd of morning regulars to swarm in. You weren’t the best candidate for customer service- what with your plastic smile and anxious nature- but the patrons were usually just friendly old folk who were content to have a willing listener and frazzled moms who’s rambunctious children spared you the need to make small talk. But even if it were a retail worker’s nightmare, the sheer amount of books at your fingertips would make the job worth it in your opinion.

However, you didn’t have much of a chance to sit down and read today. Unlike most days, the stream of needy patrons was constant, so you and your co-workers had little to no time to rest. And unlike most days, when this would have stressed you out, you gladly welcomed the distraction. Of course, you couldn’t avoid worrying about Choker the whole time. Still, you only caved once when on your lunch break and you called your landline phone to check on him.

After the fourth ring, you head a click, then a scratchy voice grunt, “who’s this?”

“It’s me Choker,” you chirp, “I’m having lunch right now and just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“‘m fine,” was the monotone response you got.

After a pause you ask, “uh, so, have you eaten lunch yet?”

“yeah, ‘ve eaten. sandwich needed mor’ mustard though.”

“Choker, that was a PB and J sandwich! It wasn’t supposed to have mustard on it.” 

“don’t care. would’ve liked it better if it had some.”

“Do you really want mustard with _everything_ you eat?”

“duh. haven’t’cha figured that out yet?”

“I don’t know. I honestly can’t tell if you're being serious or just trolling me sometimes,” you sigh, running a hand over your eyes.

“what’s trollin’?” he asks innocently enough. 

“It means you're joking or fooling me,” you explain, then sharply add, “but serious or not, there’s no way I’m going to desecrate a perfectly good PB and J. You’ll have to get used to eating food that isn’t smothered in the stuff so long as you live with me.”

The bitty on the other end huffed in annoyance. “tch’, fine, then i guess i’ll just have’ta find ‘nother human who’ll gimmie all the musard i want.”

You were about to mock his threat, but you remember your promise in time to bite your tongue. Even though you didn’t believe he really meant it, just the thought of him wanting to leave you for someone else made your stomach drop. Curse your stupid tendency to get attached so quickly.

After a few awkward seconds, you finally huff back, “Well, good luck finding someone willing to do that. No one in their right mind would go bankrupt over mustard for the sake of a picky bitty.” _no matter how adorable he is_.

“yeah sure, whatever. guess i'm stuck with ya then,” he said indifferently.

Your smile widens at his statement, until he adds, “uh, speakin’ of stuck, um . . . i kinda have an issue with yer tv. i think one of the disks got stuck in the player and now it won’t . . . um . . . _open_ . . .”

You mentally make a note to _never let the bitty touch a single object save the phone when you’re not home_ , then say in a restrained and not at all forced tone, “okay, thank you for letting me know. I’ll fix it when I get back.”

“s-sorry, i didn’t mean ta break it, i was just-”

“-it’s fine, Choker,” you interrupt him, a little softer this time. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re alright. Leave it alone for now, okay? I don’t want you to break it more or electrocute yourself messing with it.”

“heh, okay. but uh, us bitties don't really get injured from that.” 

_And how would you know that_ you start to ask, but stop when the answer occurs to you. 

_Oh, right, his collar._

You bit your lip again, almost breaking the skin.

You swallow thickly. “Well . . . don’t push your limits, okay Choker?”

“why?” he asked.

“Wha- wha- why!?” you stutter, still suffering from the mental whiplash of the question. “Because I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s why!” 

“tch’, come on, where’s yer sense of risk, carrot? ‘r are ya wimp _and_ a scaredy cat?”

“I’m not dumb, that’s what I am! I don’t put myself in harms way for stupid reasons.”

“yeah, but _yer_ not the one doing who’d be doin’ it, right?”

“Yeah, but your injury is still healing. You don’t want to risk re-opening the cracks, do you?” you said keeping an even tone.

“i think yer just usin’ my arm as ‘n excuse ta hide the fact that yer just a _chicken.”_

You roll your eyes at his pre-teen level insult and cooly reply, “oh really? Because I think _you're_ looking for an excuse to get injured just so you can have some more cuddles.”

“y-yeah right, fuck off!” the bitty indignantly snarled.

Now it was your turn to smile smugly. It wasn’t your fault Choker couldn’t handle the teasing he was so quick to give you. Besides, he deserved a taste of his own medicine after breaking your DVD player.

You continue sweetly, “it’s okay Choker, you don’t need to hurt yourself if all you want is a little extra SOUL time-”

“-it’s not! stop puttin’ fuckin’ words in my mouth-”

“-all you gotta do is ask! I’m more than happy to hold you next to my SOUL and cuddle you and scratch your little skull and-”

“- **fuck you** ”

The phone beeped, signaling he’d hung up on you. You blinked. Then burst out laughing so hard the people outside could probably hear you. You know you shouldn’t laugh. And you should reprimand Choker’s for being rude too, but you wouldn’t. You know he can’t help it, being an “Edgy” and all. Plus, it was your fault for pushing him to get so angry. But it was _also_ his fault for teasing you and breaking your stuff. So you consider you and him even. 

You wanted to call him back and apologize, but you knew he wouldn’t pick up. If only you could text him. But he would need a cellphone for that. Maybe you should invest in getting him one.

_If he ends up staying, that is._

You sigh and shake the thought from your head. Putting your phone away, you finish the lunch you had no more appetite for. When you went back out it was still busy and you immediately immersed yourself in a task. The hours flew by as you helped people check out their winter stash of books and shelve the mountain of returns back into their alphabetical row. But while the work kept your mind from worrying, it also tired you out. Once four thirty rolled around, you stretched and sighed happily at the thought of leaving.

Just thirty more minutes. Thirty more minutes until you’d finally be able to go home, cook a bit of dinner, and hang out with Choker until bedtime. Despite wobbling on the edge of exhaustion, you perked up at the mental image of the bitty waiting at home for you. 

Wait . . .

When was the last time you ever felt _this_ excited to go home? Sure, you often felt relieved and looked forward to relaxing in the solitude of your apartment after a stressful workday. But you never felt anything like the enthusiasm invigorating you right now. You realise it’s because you never had a reason to before Choker entered your life.

You were a reserved person by nature, and while you did feel lonely at times, you didn’t mind being alone. But now things were different. There was someone at home waiting for you. Someone you could talk to, someone you could laugh and unwind with. Even if he wasn’t the most sociable company, just spending time in comfortable silence together made you happy. It took spending a day away from him for you to realise just how much you’d come to care for his company.

While the revelation made you smile, it’s sweetness was tainted with another bitter thought- one you couldn’t seem to escape. It’s possible the bitty didn’t feel the same. You couldn’t really tell how Choker felt about you besides the fact that he seemed to tolerate you. And it was very possible that he could get fed up in two days or two months and want to leave you. The idea made your chest ache. But you reminded yourself that it was _his_ choice and that you couldn’t force him to do anything. Not after the abuse he’d escaped.

But his choice wouldn’t be made for another day, so you pushed the unpleasant thought aside for the time being. At the end of the day you left quickly (with a promise from Janet that she would bring you soup tomorrow), and drove home as fast as you could without breaking the law. Walking up to your door, you noticed large footprints in the snow leading to your apartment, but you brushed them off as just being the mail person doing their rounds. You hurriedly shove the key in the hole and unlock the door. You open it with ease this time and peer into the clean and surprisingly _not-burnt_ room.

“Hey Choker, I’m home!” you call, closing the door behind you. You don’t receive a response. He wasn’t still mad about the phone call, was he?

Suddenly you hear a strange sound- something between a yelp and a squeak- and a quick movement catches your eye. But when you swivel to look you find nothing unusual. Well, except for the two mugs and open cocoa container on the kitchen counter that wasn’t there when you left. Setting your stuff on the island, you cautiously approach the crime scene. You stare into the container, frozen still with shock.

The cocoa-covered bitty sitting slumped over in the stuff stared back as well. He broke the silence first. 

“u-uh, h-hey, carrots, um, i c-can explain. i-”

His voice snapped you from your stupor, and before Choker could finish his sentence, you started giggling, then outright laughing. All worries and concerns went flying out the window as you focused solely on how funny the bitty looked. It didn’t help that as he tried to stand, the powder gave way and caused him to fall in slap-stick fashion. You laughed even harder despite his red-faced protests. It took you a minute to get control of yourself. You wiped the tears from your eyes, glancing down at the bitty. He was sitting cross-legged, hunched over, and growling insults under his breath. The sight made you feel a pang of pity for the poor guy, but seeing his cocoa-covered face again almost triggered another round of laughter.

But you managed to smother it, taking a sharp breath and panting, “s-sorry, Choker, heh, it’s just, you look so f-funny, heheh.” 

The bitty rolled his eyelights. “yeah, yeah, sure. now could ya stop bein’ a dumbass ‘n help me outta here?”

“Alright Mr. Grumpy pants, just hang on a sec,” you say, cupping your hand and lowering it to the bitty. 

Choker fumbles on, stirring up more cocoa as he moves. You lift him out and onto the counter, the powder puffing like a cloud of dust once he jumps down. He left a fine coat on your own hand, which you promptly wash off in the sink. When you look back, he’s trying to beat the powder from his clothes, but only succeeds in making it worse. A snicker escapes your throat.

Choker glares daggers at you. “what’so funny?”

You smirk, placing a hand over your mouth. “ _You._ I just . . . I can’t get over how hilarious you look. You look like a little cocoa monster!”

“wow, how’d ya ever come up with that shitty idea,” he says deadpan.

You ignore him and instead gasp excitedly,“that’s it!”

“what?”

“ _Coco!_ That should be your nickname! Because you like hot cocoa, you’re currently covered in it, and it kinda sounds like Choker. You know, **Cho** -ker, **Co-Co**? It’s perfect!” 

‘Coco’ looked at you like you lost your mind. 

“what the fuck? ya ain't callin' me that!”

“Awww, come on, Choker, why not?” 

“cuz it’s dumb! i know ya got shit fer brains but is ‘coco’ really the best ya can come up with?” he said, rasing a brow-bone.

“You weren’t exactly original or creative with ‘Carrot’ either, but did I complain? No, I just accepted it, because it fits me. Just like how ‘Coco’ fits you, _especially_ right now,” you giggle. The bitty blushes again and looks away.

You take this as your opportunity and lean closer to him, putting on your best puppy face. “Come on, Choker, please? I won’t use it too often, I swear. Pleaseee?”

His eyelights meet yours and after wavering a few seconds, he sighs and hangs his shoulders. “fine. whatever.”

“Aw, thank you, Choker!” you grin, giving his skull a few light strokes.

Choker takes your show of appreciate and affection about as well as you expected and roughly shoves you finger away. He then glared at you icyly, incoherent grumbling while he rubbed his head. You chuckle, then turn your attention to the mugs and cocoa container. Suddenly, a question comes to mind that you probably should have asked much earlier.

“So why exactly were you in the cocoa powder anyway, Choker?”.

“that was ‘n accident. yer stupid ass scared me ‘n i fell in. end’a story,” he snaps.

“Ok,” you nod, snapping the lid back on. “I believe you. But that doesn’t explain why you were near the cocoa in the first place. Were you trying to make some all by yourself?”

The bitty hesitated. “uh . . . m-maybe?”

“Then why are there two mugs out?” you ask, releasing the answer in the same breath. You grinned slyly, “were you going to make _me_ a cup as well?”

Before he can stutter in reply you add, “that’s so sweet of you, Choker! Of course, I would prefer you didn’t try to handle hot water by yourself, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“y-yeah, well, i figured ya wouldn’t get upset wit’ me if i made ya one too,” he said, scratching his cheek. 

Unwittingly this action caused some cocoa powder to get into his socket which made it water. He rubbed his sockets, but that only made it worse and he started sneezing as the chocolate dust irritated his nose.

“Alright, come on. I’ll run you a bath and while you’re cleaning all the cocoa off, I’ll finish up what you started, okay?” you say, holding out your hand again.

The bitty shuffles into your palm. You head to the bathroom, trying to keep the cocoa from shaking off in the process. Choker stripped his clothes off and eagerly waited for the water to warm up. When it was hot enough to be considered scalding, he dove right into it with no bandage to slow him down. You smiled at the purring bitty, satisfied to know these baths were a part of his ever expanding list of happy things. 

Despite the scene of pure cuteness, you can’t help leaving the bathroom without singing behind your shoulder, “okay, when I come back, I expect there not to be a speck of cocoa left on you _Coco~”_

You chuckle and shut the door behind you, cutting off the stream of obscenities.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Once again, Choker is jolted awake by the incessant noise from your phone’s alarm. He shoves his head into the blanket and waits for you to turn it off. However, you don’t and it continues to blare in the darkness. He tolerates it for a few more seconds, then fueled by his growing rage, he teleports out of his tub and onto your nightstand.

“turn off yer fuckin’ alarm!” he shouts loud enough to rival the phone beside him.

You jerk upwards in bed and start fumbling to turn the light on. After you’ve succeeded, you stare at him dazed for a second. Then noticing the phone still ringing beside him, you grab it and finally turn the damn thing off. You groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Sorry Choker. I . . I sometimes sleep past my alarm. It didn’t ring for too long, did it?” you say apologetically. 

“long enough ta get on my nerves,” he growled.

You stumble out of the bed. “Sorry, sorry. I'm just tired. Next time this happens, just, hit the snooze button, ok? That’ll stop it for a while.”

“what’bout’cha job? don’t’cha gotta get up?”

“Yeah, I do,” you waved dismissively, pulling your clothes from your dresser, “but five minutes more won’t hurt.”

You then turn to look at him with a smile. “I’m glad you woke me up, though. I would have hated to be late. Thanks.”

Choker crossed his arms. “tch’, whatever. just turn yer shitty alarm off next time.”

“Or what? You’ll bite my toes or something to wake me up?” you teased.

“maybe,” he grinned slyly, purposefully showing off his teeth.

You chuckled at that, causing his SOUL to hum happily at the sound. Ever since Monday, you'd taken every oppertunity to turn the whole "biting" thing into a joke. He didn't know why you did it, but it made him feel more at ease about the whole thing. After all, if you could just laugh it off, what did he have to worry about?

After you left the room to go change, he let his eyelights drift over the vacant spot in your bed. It would be so warm, and not just from your body heat. So much warmer than his very comfortable bedding. But he couldn’t bring himself to snuggle there. He couldn’t even ask to sleep with you. Not if he was just going to be sent away. Plus, he wasn’t sure you _wanted_ him to sleep with you, since you always took him to his tub at bedtime.

Letting his feet dangle off the edge, he waited for you to finish your morning routine. You then took him to the kitchen like yesterday, and like yesterday, you made and ate breakfast with him. The rest of the morning continued the same as before. You walked around, did some stuff online, and made him his lunch. It was a turkey sandwich dripping with mustard, proving once again that you really were t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶f̶u̶l a pushover. He didn’t rub it in though, not wanting to push his luck.

You hesitated at the door and asked him the same question as before. He put on a smile (which wasn’t hard to do considering how your concern made him feel) and told you _again_ to go and that he was fine. It was fine that you left him. It was only for a few hours anyway. So you left. You closed the door, leaving him alone with the cozy, silent apartment. 

It was fine. He was fine.

He frowned, placing his phalanges over his SOUL. Ok, maybe not _completely_ fine. That strange feeling was back. The one that left him feeling empty and a little sad. Like something was missing. He’d never felt it when Rick left. He was more than happy to be rid of the bastard for a few hours of precious sleep. He was used to being left alone for days on end. So why did being left alone _now_ for a few hours bother him?

You were much better at emotions. Maybe he would ask you when you got home. But then again, that would mean he’d have to open up about said emotion. So maybe he wouldn’t. 

He shook his head, looking around the room for a distraction. You had fixed the DVD player like you said (the player was unharmed, but the same could not be said for the disk. RIP _The Iron Giant_ ). So Choker decided to try his luck again and put in another disc the way you’d shown him last night. This one was a cartoon, but it had a lot more engaging action scenes to watch. He put a few more on after it finished, but he kept dozing off.

Time dragged on until it finally hit noon. The bitty greedily ate the sandwich, careful not to make a mess. After he sat and waited by the phone. You told him you'd call again, but Choker still worried you wouldn’t. He didn’t know why, but hearing your voice made the strange ache in his SOUL lessen a bit. What he _did_ know, but wouldn’t admit aloud, was that he liked hearing your cheerful chatter in the empty silence of the apartment. When the phone finally did ring, he had to restrain himself from answering too eagerly. 

Afterall, he had a reputation to keep up. He didn’t care if you talked to him or not. He didn’t care if your weak attempts at punning were funny or not. He didn’t care about being left alone. He didn’t miss you. 

You replied cheerily as before, asking the same questions: how was he doing? Had he eaten? What did he break _this time?_ One thing Choker was thankful he didn’t repeat was him carelessly threatening to find a new human. He didn’t really mean it, but from the awkward silence on your end his words were taken seriously. He felt guilty and tried to make it up to you by preparing you some hot cocoa, which only ended embarrassingly for him. He was much more careful with his words today. 

As a result, it was actually a pretty nice conversation (especially since you didn’t tease him again). But when the phone call ended, the pang in his SOUL returned so violently that he felt disoriented for a moment. He needed something. Something to make the sadness go away. So he turned on the sink, stripped, and then plunged under the steaming water. It felt incredible, of course, but it wasn’t what was missing. Like the pills, it only numbed the strange pain in his SOUL.

After drying and dressing, he wandered around boredly. Eventually, he settled on reading an encyclopedia. Figured he needed a refresher. He struggled to pull the hefty book from your shelf, only for it to topple to the floor. Turning to a random page, he lazily skimmed the pictures and their descriptions. It was boring work, but he kept at it, only occasionally nodding off. The third time he caught his eyelids drooping shut, he glanced at your wall clock.

It was only a few hours now. Just a few hours until you’d arrive home from work. Then in a couple hours you’d head off to bed. And then you’d wake up and it would be . . . _the day_. He gulped. As much as time slogged on, it was going by _way_ too fast for Choker. 

His SOUL beat anxiously and his metacarpals felt wet with sweat. He was nervous. But not because he didn’t know what his choice would be when you asked him tomorrow. He knew with every speck of dust in his being what he wanted.

He wanted to stay. 

Not just because he didn’t want to risk living with another screwed up bastard. And not just because he had it made here: freedom to roam, three meals a day, entertainment, safety, SOUL time. He wanted to stay because of **you.** Sure, you were annoying and air-headed, but you meant well. Since day one you were kind, considerate, honest, kept your promises, and always treated him like he was his own bitty. His own person.

He wasn’t your _killing machine_ , but he wasn’t your _pet_ either. He was your companion and you were his. He wanted to you to be _your_ bitty. 

What made him nervous was that he couldn’t be sure if _you_ wanted that too.

You sent so many mixed signals. Everytime you said something that made it sound like his tenancy was permanent, you followed it up with how he had to choose tomorrow if it was. And despite giving him all the SOUL time he wanted when you watched TV before bed, you never asked him if he wanted to sleep with you. So did that mean you only were only doing the bare minimum of keeping him healthy? You said he was your top priority, but was the because you only saw him as your responsibility and not as _your bitty?_

You said he could stay if he wanted to, and you hardly ever went back on your word. So he believed you’d really keep him if he wanted you to. But he didn’t want you to do so for the sake of honoring the deal, or out of pity, or because you saw it as your job to take care of him. He wanted you to _want_ him. It’s what every bitty longs for. 

To be wanted. 

To be _loved._

Choker was no different from other bitties in this respect. 

He looked down at the page. His eyelights were a little fuzzy, but he could make out the drops of sweat on the page. They were still dripping down. No wait. That wasn’t sweat. He squeezed and rubbed his eye sockets, continuing to pitifully hiccup. He was hiccuping? Or was that . . . no, he wasn’t sobbing. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t some damn Cherry. He was an Edgy.

A broken Edgy. A dust-stained Edgy. He didn’t deserve a caring human like you. He didn’t deserve anything but to du-

Choker growled angrily at the t̶e̶a̶r̶s̶ sweat still pouring down. He wiped them away and flipped to the next page, ripping a tear in the process. He sighed. He needed to calm down. After a few deep breaths, he started reading again, but found it even harder than before. He was bored, and after his little, uh, _emotional issue,_ he was tired too. Leaving the book on the floor he shuffled over to the couch.

Climbing on, he chose a pillow that was in view of the door. He kneaded out the lumps and curled comfortably into the cushion. He glanced back at the clock. It was three thirty. He had plenty of time to nap before you’d come home. Heaving another sigh, he closed his eye sockets. In spite of the anxiety still gnawing at his SOUL, he managed to fall asleep fairly quickly. 

It felt like no time had passed when he woke up to the sound of the door rattling. He peaked over at it. The door was still shaking and you hadn’t entered yet. Weird. But maybe you just had your hands full of something and was struggling to unlock it? As you continued to wrestle with the knob, Choker decided to lay back down as if he were asleep.

After all, there wasn't anything he could do about the door. And maybe if you saw him sleeping peacefully, you wouldn’t pester him with questions. Maybe you’d come over and turn on the television and rub the back of what you supposed was a sleeping bitty. He had to keep himself from grinning at the thought and added a loud snore just to keep up the charade.

Finally, the door clicked open. He heard you shuffle inside, you steps unusually heavy. Maybe you really were carrying something? He wanted to peek and check but didn’t dare. Just as he hoped, you silently made your way to where he was ‘napping’. He lay perfectly still, purposefully drawing in long, deep breaths. But you didn’t sit down. You didn’t move at all. What were you doing? And why did you smell faintly of . . . .

Choker risked opening a socket to look up at you. He gasped, but he couldn’t breathe. He sat up, staring wide-eyed at the looming figure above him.

“r-r-rick!?” he shrieked, scooting away and cowering.

But it was too late. The man lunged and caught the bitty in one swoop. He was wearing a hood over his face, but Choker would recognise that stench, that labored breathing, and that damned, ripped glove anywhere. The same glove that was currently holding his arms and legs hostage. Only his head could move, so he used his advantage to bite down as hard as he could.

Through his teeth he snarled frantically, “l-lemme go ya bastard, lemme go, lemme go! shit! lemme go right now ya fucker!”

He would have screamed more if Rick hadn’t pulled out a rag and wrapped it around his skull, blocking off all light and air. He retracted his fangs to struggle against the cloth. Was Rick trying _kill_ him? He began to hyperventilate, inhaling the odd scent of the rag. It permeated everything, the air, his "lungs", even his thoughts. His skull felt so light. He couldn’t think straight. Everything was growing dark.

s-so dark . . .

so t-tired . . .

he couldn’t . . . he-

He blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _~dun dun dunnnnn~_
> 
> A lot of you guys expected something to go wrong in this chapter, but none of you guessed that _something_ would be Rick. The bastard has returned for the climax folks! How many of you expected him to show up again? What are his plans for Choker? Will he hurt Choker before Carrot can rescue him? Of course, my lips are sealed, but have fun theorizing in the comments if you want. 
> 
> And if you're wondering what knocked Choker out, your guess is as good as mine. Was it chloroform? Was it some type of bitty anesthetic? Idk, just go with whatever makes the most sense to you.


	13. Unpleasent Surprises

_Shunk-Shunk_

_Shunk-Shunk_

_Shunk-Shunk_

Choker groaned, curling into a tighter ball.

Stars, why did everything hurt so fucking much? His bones ached like he was slung around with a blue attack. It was painful to move, painful to breathe. Shit, it even hurt to _think_ thanks to the pounding in his skull. It was so loud he thought he could hear it audibly.

Wait . . . he _could_ hear it. The thumping wasn’t just inside his head.

He strained his hearing. There were other noises too. Squeaking sounds. A guttural rumble. It vibrated whatever he was laying on. Wait . . what _was_ he laying on? He touched it tentatively with a phalange. It was smoothe, coated in dirt, and so unbearably cold it felt somewhat like a burn. Worst of all it was **familiar**. A chill skittered up his spine, and it wasn’t just from the cold. 

No . . . it couldn’t be. He wasn’t . . . he couldn’t . . . .there was no way he . . . 

Wincing, he opened his sockets and squinted as his eyelights focused. Only to immediately sputter out at the sight before him. Metal bars with scratch marks he knew like the back of his metacarpals loomed before him. Beyond them he saw the truck door. Blurry light from the streetlamps racing by the window illuminated the cell, making the shadows of the poles dance across him.

No . . . no this . . . this wasn’t _right._

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. It was just a vivid nightmare. He would wake up any second now on your couch, in your apartment, with you. He wasn’t really here. He wasn’t back in his cage, back in Rick’s truck, back with-

Choker’s eye sockets widened. _Rick!_

He remembered, he- he’d been there. In the apartment. Somehow he got in and he grabbed Choker before he could shortcut to safety. Then he smothered him with a towel or something and he . . shit, he must have passed out. And now he was here. He was _really_ here. 

He lay still in shock. It felt so surreal. Had . . had he even escaped? Were _you_ real? Or had his time with you been some sort of coma-dream from his injury? His non-existent stomach lurched. He reached for his collar to tug at it. Choker gasped. It was gone? Choker pulled back his sleeve and . . yep, it was gone too. The injury was little more than a hairline fracture now thanks to SOUL time with you. 

**You**

Choker smothered a whimper as he realised he wouldn’t be there when you came home. Had you noticed he was gone by now? Did you panic? What did you think? That he’d left you on purpose? That he didn’t want to stay with you anymore? Were you even looking for him? No, that would be pointless. There was no way you’d find him now. He wasn’t going to get that lucky again. 

Choker clenched his fists. Dread and fear melted in the heat of his boiling anger. It wasn’t fair to be toyed with like this. Given the chance of a good life with a good human, only for it to be snatched away at the last minute. _It wasn’t **fair.**_

Fueled by adrenaline, Choker pushed himself upright. He grimaced, struggling to keep himself steady, partly from the sluggish side effects of being knocked out and partly from the jerky movements of the vehicle. He waited until his vertigo lessened to observe his surroundings. Outside the dark windshield, Choker could see the wipers cleaning the oncoming sleet with little success. Well _that_ explained the grating noise.

Another noise- a guttural cough- caught his attention. He swiveled in its direction and froze when he saw **him.** He looked worse than normal. Greasy, tired, more unstable. The bags under his eyes were visible even in the dim street light. He stared at the road ahead, seemingly oblivious to Choker’s own stare. Still, the bitty started crawling backwards, cursing himself as his fear spiked.

If the bastard hadn’t seen him yet, then maybe he could- _shit!_

He froze again, only his eyelights were shaking as Rick suddenly turned to face the bitty. He’d probably felt said eyelights staring at him. How could he be so fucking stupid? The man studied the bitty a second longer, then rolled his eyes to look at the road again.

“ _Shit_ . . .” he mumbled.

The word snapped the bitty from his paraylzed state. His SOUL beat faster, this time with rage. The same rage he felt when fighting in the ring. What he wouldn’t give to be able to dust the fucker right then and there. But he couldn’t. So instead, he crouched lower and let out a threatening growl. 

Rick shifted his eyes at the bitty and scowled. “Stop that Choker. And don’t try anything,” he said darkly. 

Choker stopped growling, but maintained his heated glare. It’s not like he could do anything else, despite what Rick’s threat suggested. Even without his collar the bitty couldn’t teleport past the bars and his attacks were useless against them. Of course, that didn’t stop his magic from flaring angrily. But after a year of being with Rick he knew how to reign it in. 

He sat quietly, taking a few calming breaths. Once his mind wasn’t muddled with thoughts of murder, he asked the first question that came to mind. 

“where ya goin’?” he said flatley.

The answer was obvious. Clearly they were heading back to his place. Back to his old hell hole. But the fact that he was in his _cage_ instead of his _carrier_ made him less sure of his assumption.

“We’re getting outta the state,” Rick replied horsley, still facing straight ahead.

The answer shocked Choker for a second, but he quickly recovered. “why? ya runnin’ from the law or somethin’? wouldn’t happen’ta be fer bitty-napping, would it?” he said, daring to be a bit snarky. 

“I didn’t _bitty-nap_ you,” Rick snapped back. “It’s the bitch that stole my property.”

Choker bristled. Rick had referred to him as a ‘thing’ more times than he could count, but to be called it now- after spending a week getting treated like a _person_ \- it felt even more insulting. Choker tried to think of another sarcastic remark but Rick spoke first.

“Hey, speaking of that bitch, you didn’t rat me out, did you? Cuz if you did then I swear I’ll-”

“-didn’t say a word. didn’t even give yer name,” Choker said, his glare meeting Rick’s own. He let his eyelights fall to his lap as he added bitterly, “should've when i had the chance.”

Shit, he’d really fucked it up, hadn’t he? If he wasn’t such a prickly ass about his past and his feelings then maybe he could have told you about Rick. You could have called the cops or something. Even if they didn’t catch him, at least you could have been better prepared for this to happen, right? But no, he was suffering now because of his own damn fault. **Again.**

“Well, doesn’t matter now,” Rick said dryly, dragging Choker’s attention back to him. “Nothin’ that bitch can do once we cross state lines anyway.”

Choker boldly snarled, “stop callin’ carrot a bitch, ya _asshole!”_

Rick looked stunned by the bitty’s outburst. Good. **No one could call his human that, especially not this pathetic waste of space.** But his smug little victory was cut short when the man’s face twisted from shock to one of frustration.

“ _Ugh_ , dammit,” he groaned, “should’ve known you’d get attached. You’re such a worthless piece’a shit.”

The words had no venom behind them, but they still stung. Argh, why did his SOUL have to react like that? He didn’t care what Rick thought of him. His words didn’t matter. But then . . . why did they hurt so much? Was it because they were true? 

No, it wasn’t . . . it wasn’t true. Rick was trying to get under his skin. And even though he didn’t have any, the bastard still succeeded. He would have laughed at the sick joke if he wasn’t so angry. Choker directed his loathing from himself to the human filth beside him.

“if’m so useless to ya, then why’d’ya go through all the trouble of gettin’ me? couldn’t been easy ta find me,” he said, smirking at the thought of giving Rick a headache.

“Pfft, what do you mean? Course it was. Or did your shitty memory forget your collar had a tracker?”

He reflexively grabbed his neck. “i . . b-but carrot cut it up, i don’t-”

“-the app still registers the last place the collar is even if it’s deactivated. Your “carrot” didn’t get rid of it before taking you to the apartment. From there I just had to wait for the right time to break in,” he smiled thinly.

Choker couldn’t breath; his throat felt tight, even though there was no collar restricting it. His collar . . . that damn thing had cursed him to this fate from the beginning. If only he’d told you about the tracking earlier. If only he’d been b̶r̶a̶v̶e smart enough to have you cut it off that first night. 

_This was all his fault._

After a moment or two of silence, Rick muttered, “you aren’t wrong though- ‘bout the cops. I fought the bastards off and escaped the night of the fight, but now they gotta warrant on me. I’m getting a new place, a new name, a new job. Starting over everything.”

Choker felt a sickening sense of hope. Maybe Rick didn’t want to risk him fighting anymore. Maybe he just took Choker because he was scared he’d tell on him. Maybe he was planning to keep him as a locked up pet. It wasn’t an ideal future, but it was better than fighting. 

As much as he didn’t want to ask, he had to know. “s-so . . . what’cha want me fer?” 

Choker held his breath. Rick eyed him in disbelief. 

“To fight, of course. Why else would I risk taking a stupid ass bitty like you with me? The state over doesn't have as many restrictions as this one, so there’s even less chances of getting caught again.”

Of course.

 _Of course_ Rick only wanted him to fight. Only wanted him for the money he could win. It was stupid to assume anything else. Stupid to get his hopes so damn high. Choker clenched his teeth, biting back his emotions. _He was so fucking stupid._

“Unless you’re too tame to fight now. If so I’ll dust you at the next stop. No point in hauling around a useless ass bitty,” said Rick as he glowered at him. 

Choker looked away, not wanting to meet his gaze anymore. He didn’t have any fight left in him. No anger. No dread. No panic. The coldness of his situation numbed him to his SOUL. 

His voice cracked as he mumbled, “y-yeah guess yer right . . .” 

Rick looked away, apparently satisfied with the half-hearted answer. Choker didn’t care. He was done with this conversation. Shakily, he crawled to the back of the cage, curling into one of the corners. Sitting with his back to it, he hugged his knees to his chest and lowered his head behind them. His sockets were as empty and dull as his SOUL. 

Maybe Rick was right. Maybe he really was a useless bitty. All he did was sleep and eat when he was with you. He was a lousy pet, much less a companion. _Burden_ was a more accurate description. Staying with you wouldn’t change the fact that the only thing he was good for was fighting bittys. At least with Rick his existence wasn’t _completely_ pointless. 

He could fight. He’d done it for most of his life, after all. He could live with the fact that he’d never escape again. That he’d . . . he’d never see you again. You were better off without him to worry about anyway. You were probably relieved to be rid of him. You’d be fine. He’d be fine. He was a survivor.

And survivors _don’t_ _**cry.**_

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

“I’m home!” you call, walking into the warmth of your apartment. 

You sigh in relief as you set your stuff down, taking a moment to stretch and pop your back. Choker _hates_ it when you do that. You expect the sound to draw the pissed-off bitty to you, but you’re only greeted by more silence. You look around curiously. The apartment was spotless like you left it, save for the encyclopedia now laying on the floor. Looks like Choker took you up on the reading suggestion. 

Thinking of the bitty causes you to look down the hall and smirk. Choker’s absence could only mean one thing- he was sleeping. Tiptoeing to your bedroom and over to the tub, you ready your camera. But instead of catching Choker adorably snoring away, you find that the tub is empty. You turn on the light and see that your bed is empty too. In fact, your entire room appears empty. 

̶S̶o̶m̶e̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶w̶r̶o̶n̶g̶.̶

Turning off the phone, you shake your head clear of any paranoid thoughts. 

“Choker, where are you? Come out please!” you call sweetly.

When you don’t get a response you shake your head again. That cheeky skeleton is hiding from you. Of course he is. He knows how tired you are after work, and even though it was a slow, boring day, you weren't in the mood for round two of hide-and-seek. Choker was hoping to use this unfair advantage to beat you. Well, you weren’t going to let him win that easily.

“Alright Choker, if you won’t come out, then I’ll come find _you_ ,” you declare loudly.

The first five minutes you spend half-heartedly looking in obvious places, but when there’s no sight or sound of him, you begin searching harder. You even look in places you hadn't the first game. By the end of ten minutes you’ve turned your apartment inside-out and _still_ there’s no sign of the bitty. You stop and stand with your hands on your hips. Time to give up.

“Ok Choker, I can’t find you, so you win! You can come out now,” you huff, expecting the bitty to emerge from an unchecked shoe or drawer and gloat triumphantly at you. 

When this doesn’t happen you try again. “Come on, Choker, just come out already!” you said w̶o̶r̶r̶i̶e̶d annoyed.

Seconds pass by. Nothing happens. You get an eerily feeling, as if you’re all alone in your apartment.

_̶S̶o̶m̶e̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶w̶r̶o̶n̶g̶._

Nothing is wrong. Choker was probably just teleporting when you weren’t looking, the little cheater. But if he was going to play dirty, then so would you. The way to deal with the stubborn bitty was to prey on his weakness: food. You smile mischievously as you walk into the kitchen.

Grabbing two corn dogs from the freezer, you place them in the microwave while you snatch the mustard bottle with **Choker** written on it in sharpie. As the food defrosts, you glance over your shoulder. Nothing. He was resisting the temptation, but you knew he wouldn’t last much longer. The microwave beeps and you remove the steaming dogs.

You stare at the counter. Choker isn’t there. 

Shouldn’t he have smelled the corn dogs or heard the microwave and teleported over to you? Maybe he just needed more persuading. You apply mustard to one of the dogs before shoving it in your mouth. You chew slowly, moaning blissfully at the ‘exquisite’ taste of the freezer-burned, processed meat. You take another bite after swallowing the first.

“Mmmm, this is so good,” you say, mouth full. “Wow, Choker, you sure are missing out on these awesome dogs! It’s too bad there isn’t enough mustard left to share with you.”

Surely threatening him with no mustard would make the sulking bitty frantically fly at you in a fit of panic and rage? But your empty threat is met with emptier silence. You swallow hard, the food scraping as it slides down your tightening throat. You look down at the half-eaten corn dog as the other half performs somersaults in your stomach. 

_**̶S̶o̶m̶e̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶w̶ ̶r̶ ̶o̶ ̶n̶ ̶g̶** _

You push the thought away and stand up, walking over to the living room. 

“Choker? Come out please. I’m serious, this isn’t funny. _Coco?”_ you call, hoping the nickname would be enough to coax him out.

Walking over to the couch, something catches your attention. It’s a puddle of water. How had you missed that? More importantly, how did that get there? Choker was lazy, sure, but he never made a mess without attempting to clean it (probably from fear you’d be mad). On top of that, there was no glass or container around. It didn’t make any sense.

Great. So now you can’t find Choker _and_ there’s a mysterious puddle on the floor.

Then you notice some smaller droplets father away. Your eyes follow the trail they make, leading you right to the door. But. . . Choker couldn’t open it, _right?_ You didn’t think he could. But maybe the bitty had withheld that information from you in the hopes of escaping at some point? Even after all the trust you built, it wasn’t out of the question. 

Only one way to find out.

Your hand trembled as you opened the door. You prayed silently that Choker was waiting right outside for you. But no, all you see are a bunch of snowy footprints surrounding your door.

“C-Choker? Choker are you out here? Choker!?” you cry, your voice breaking. 

You look around for the bitty. There’s no sign of him, not even any bitty sized footprints (although the still-falling snow could have covered them up by now). What you _did_ find were large, human-sized prints. Maybe from the mail person? But they already ran their round hours ago. These were **fresh**.

As fresh as the wave of panic filling your lungs. Only seeing your frigid breath in the air told you that you were still breathing. Grabbing the door frame, you used it to steady yourself and your thoughts.

The fresh footprints, the water puddle, the vanished bitty. It all had to be connected, right? Was there a breakin? But nothing was stolen. Had Choker hidden in fear from them? But then why hadn’t he come out when you arrived? Had Choker _attacked_ them? But there was no sign of a struggle. No blood. No bitty dust. No clues besides the vague puddle and ominous footprints.

Your legs tremble under you, threatening to buckle at any second. Meanwhile, the corn dog was trying to come up, but your tight throat wouldn’t let it. Instead, tears began dripping from your cheeks and melting the snow beneath that was spinning beneath you.

Had Choker left you? Was his plan to wait until he was healed enough to make a run for it? When did he leave? Where did he go? Or did someone come inside and take him? When? Why? Was Choker okay? Was he hurt? Was he dust? Oh stars . . . he’s dust. Choker is _dead and it’s all your fault-_

You looked down. You’re sitting in the snow, ruining your only bit of evidence. The wet cold soaked into your pants and shocked you from your spiraling thoughts. Gingerly touching it, you let the freezing snow calm you down. You needed to focus. Groaning, you pulled yourself to your feet using the door. You stood, unsure what to do next, when an idea struck you as you glanced down the hallway.

Your neighbors! Maybe one of them was responsible for the footprints? Maybe they knew where Choker was! It was worth a shot. You numbly walked to the first door. The young man was surprised to see you. Besides a polite greeting in passing you never spoke to any of your neighbors. But that was then. Now you weren’t shy at all- you were _desperate._

Each one of them had the same answer. No, they hadn’t seen a bitty around, and yes, they’d keep an eye out for him. After knocking on every door on your second story floor and the floor below (checking the hallways for any sign of the bitty as you did so), you finally made it back to your apartment, head hung in defeat. You shuffled numbly through the footprints and into your home. 

It was cold. And not just because you left your door open like an idiot. You didn’t even look to see if Choker had come out of hiding while you were gone. What was the point. He was gone. With the last of your willpower, you forced your feet to carry you to the couch. You plopped down, curling into yourself, and only _then_ did you begin bawling.

You didn’t care if your neighbors heard you. You hoped they would. You thought that . . . maybe _he_ would, and that he’d come running to you. But only your cries filled the silence, causing the thought to die along with the last of your hope. Sitting there, blubbering and sobbing like a child, you let despair consume you. 

He was gone. Choker was gone and you didn’t know how or why. You couldn’t do anything. You were too late. He was gone. He was dead and gone. Nothing more than a pile of dust out in the snow. Why hadn’t you stayed home? Why wasn’t he here? Why had he left you? Why hadn’t you done more? Why? Why? _Why-_

**~Ding~**

Your phone buzzes. Reacting on autopilot, you pull the device from your pocket and look at the notification. Looks like the snow’s finally going to stop in a few hours. You don’t care. You watch as your hand moves to pull up your photos. Why? You didn’t want to look at anything right now, especially anything to do with Choker. But that didn’t stop your hand.

So many pictures taken in so little time. Him sleeping in his tub. Him eating his birthday cupcake. Him sleeping on the couch. Him shoving an entire corn dog into his mouth, spilling mustard everywhere. Him curled up on your chest as you watched a movie in the very spot you sat now. 

You placed your shaking hand over your heart. The bitty wasn’t there. Your hand felt empty. Your SOUL felt even emptier. You continue staring at the picture, but it’s getting blurrier by the second. Fresh tears fall onto the screen. You don’t care. You cradle the phone to your chest.

_Oh Choker . . . **I’m so sorry . . .**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slowly sips angst*Ah, short and sad, just how I like it.
> 
> So yeah, this chapter is all hurt and no comfort, but I promise I'm not going to stretch this out. Next chapter is the last one before the epilouge so place your bets now folks. ;)


	14. Home At Last

Choker slammed face first onto the metal floor as the truck jerked to a stop. The bitty rubbed his skull, hoping it would numb the pain. Forcing his sockets open he looked outside. White light poured in through the window from the ceiling that blocked out the night sky. Shit, he’d only dozed off for a second. Were they there already?

“where ‘r we?” he growled at Rick, not sounding groggy at all.

“Gas station,” he replied curtly. “Just need some juice to get to the hotel.”

Frowning at the bitty he added, “ and if you try anything while I’m gone, I’m not gonna feed you till your next fight. Got it?”

Choker nodded sullenly. The threat didn’t scare him, but he wasn’t going to try and escape anyway. 

Rick grunted and left the vehicle, slamming the door behind him. Choker rolled over on his side toward the window. He was tempted to snuggle into his old rag, but he didn’t want his hoodie to get any dirtier than it already was. His clothes were all he had left of you. Burying his face into his arms, he inhaled deeply. Yep, still smelled like you too. Like cinnamon and musty old books. The scent made his eye sockets water.

He quickly wiped the traitorous tears with his sleeve. He couldn’t- _wouldn’t_ let himself cry like a Cherry, dammit. He knew how to control his emotions. How to keep them locked up in his SOUL, leaving him numb and indifferent. So far he’d done a good job of doing just that. But the moment he thought of _you_ the damn water works would threaten to start. Choker squeezed his sockets shut. He just wanted to sleep.

But of course sleep didn’t come. His mind was too alert as he waited for Rick to come back. He tossed and turned, his agitation growing by the minute. Where was the bastard? He’d filled up the tank with Choker in the truck before and it never took him _this_ long. Was he having some kinda trouble? Maybe getting food? The idea made him hungrily salivate.

Shit. He sure was gonna miss getting three meals a day. He was gonna miss a lot of things now that yo-

 _-no! don’t think about it!_

Choker opened his eyes and glanced around to distract himself. He couldn’t see or hear Rick. He couldn’t see or hear much of anything from his cage. Still, he strained his non-existent ears and focused his eyelights on the window above him. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well keep a socket out for when the asshole returned.

Seconds passed. Maybe minutes. How long has Rick been gone? Choker can’t tell. He sucks at telling time thanks to the asshole. Anxiety gnawed at the back of his mind, telling him something was wrong, but he ignored it. It’s not like this could get any worse.

Right?

Choker sat up stiffly when he heard something blaring in the distance. What the hell is that? He scooted closer to the bars, his SOUL pounding in his chest. It grew louder and louder as more sounds like it joined in. The truck did little to muffle the sound. He covered his ears spots with his hands and closed his sockets, hoping whatever the fuck it was would _just stop._

It was so loud. Just like the deafening noise at the **ring.**

No . . . no, he didn’t wanna go back! He didn’t wanna fight! He didn’t-

The driver's door squeaked open, causing the bitty to jump in surprise. He stared wide-eyed at Rick who scrambled into his seat.

“what the fuc-”

“-Shut the hell up!” Rick screamed, thrusting the key in the ignition. He was sweating and panting heavily, but it was the look of pure terror in his eyes that made Choker’s reply die in his throat.

“Fuckfuckfuck, come on, _come on_ ,” he muttered as the engine sputtered to life.

Choker grabbed the metal bar closest to him as Rick went from zero to sixty as fast as the old truck could manage. He swerved out of the parking lot and into the road, sending the bitty flying onto his back. Choker lay shaking at the mercy of his motion sickness. His SOUL dropped when he realised the noise was _following them._

Grimacing, he crawled back into his corner and rested his head against the cool metal. He felt slightly better now that Rick wasn’t driving as recklessly as before. But the wailing noise behind them continued to make his head ache. Oh right, the noise.

“w-what the f-fuck is going on?” Choker asked timidly, not wanting to risk Rick’s wrath. Not while he’s _this_ unstable. 

“That bastard recognized me n’ called the FUCKIN’ COPS!” he screamed frantically. He casted a worried glance at the mirror and gripped the wheel tighter. “SHIT, they’re right on me!”

So that noise was the cops, huh? No wonder Rick was scared shitless. That, and the fact that being caught meant jail or worse. Did . . . did that mean Choker _wanted_ the cops to catch them? The cops were supposed to help good humans, but **he** wasn’t a good human. He wasn’t even a good _bitty_. So even if they did rescue him from Rick, he wasn’t sure he’d be safe with them either. 

Choker gulped and looked out the windshield. It was pitch black everywhere but where the headlight’s shined, but he could still see trees whizzing by. Could Rick really lose a bunch of cop cars in hot pursuit driving like this? Did he _want_ Rick to lose them? It’s not like it really mattered what he wanted. He could do anything about it. 

_yet._

Several tense minutes passed by silently. The air felt so thick Choker could cut it with a swipe of his claw. Rick said nothing to him. He shifted his eyes back and forth between the cops and the road, muttering an occasional curse under his breath. His focus was solely on keeping the lead he had. But about five minutes into the chase, the truck started making weird wheezing sounds.

“ _Shit!_ No no no, shit! ” he hissed, slamming his fist on the dashboard.

Choker wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he could guess from the engine’s whines and the slowing speed that they were running out of gas. Rick probably didn’t fuel the tank and the chase just drained what little they had left. The bitty gripped the cage as Rick swerved frantically. But there was nowhere to go unless he wanted to collide into a tree. 

Rick abruptly stepped on the brakes, the force throwing Choker onto his face again. He wanted to rub his sore nasal ridge but he kept still, watching Rick from the corner of his socket. Stopping could only mean one thing: Rick was going to make a run for it. Chokerjust needed to wait for the right moment.

“Come on, come on,” Rick said, struggling with his seat belt. 

Once free he turned his attention to Choker, his sickly yellow face now drained colorless with panic. The bitty curled into himself and shook, lifting his shrunken eyelights to meet the man’s wild gaze. Rick in his frenzy bought the act. He fumbled with twitching hands to unlock the cage door, not giving it a second thought. Choker trembled, but not with fear. He was done being afraid.

The door swung wide open and Rick carelessly thrust his ungloved hand inside. “Come’re ya little shit!” 

Once the sweaty fingers were inches away from him, Choker dropped his fearful facade and latched onto one with a snarl. His fangs pierced the skin, drawing a stream of blood. Rick immediately pulled his hand out along with the bitty.

“AGH! FUCK! LET GO!” he shrieked, flailing his hand in the air.

Choker held on as long as he could, but the swinging motion loosened his grip. He sailed through the air and fell unscathed on the dashboard. Wiping his bloody mouth with his sleeve, he eyed the still screaming human with a predatory look.

The rage he had held back now consumed him. This was it. His chance for **revenge.** And he was going to make the bastard pay with his _life_. The thought sent a burning rush of magic through him. With a feral growl the bitty lunged at his neck, teeth bared and claws pointed.

Rick turned toward him just as he pounced and dodged. Choker landed on the left side of his head. Shit, he’d missed his target! Oh well. He could improvise. Without hesitation he sunk his teeth into the soft cartilage of Rick’s ear.

“ **FUCK!** FUCKING GET OFF ME!” he shouted so loudly Choker’s skull rang. 

Warm blood filled his mandible, making him want to gag. He shut his sockets to keep from getting sick as Rick jerked his head around. A hand grabbed his dangling body and tried prying him off. He winced as it crushed his ribs, but tightened his grip on the lobe and bit down harder.

Despite his efforts, the flimsy skin finally gave way and Choker sliced right through it as Rick yanked him off. With a howl of pain Rick flung him out of his hand and onto the top of his cage. Choker groaned as he lay there dizzily. He spit out the disgusting blood, gasping at the pain in his chest. Glancing up, he saw a bleeding Rick with a fist raised to pummel him. 

Choker shrunk back but kept his glare steady. If he was going to dust, then he was going to dust looking death straight in the eyes.

Just as Rick was about to strike, the driver’s door swung open. He jolted in surprise, turning toward the distraction. Choker looked as well, his eyelights glued on the human standing outside. The man was wearing the same uniform he’d seen the strange humans at the fight wear. Was this a cop? Choker didn’t dare move as the man stared sternly at Rick while holding something metal-looking. 

“Put your hands up where I can see them!” he commanded. 

Choker watched as Rick did what he was told, the injured hand still dripping from Choker’s bite. He couldn’t help smirking a little at the sight. The cop then stepped back and motioned with the metal thing for Rick to exit the vehicle. The injured man sullenly stepped out as directed.

“Rick Patterson, you are under arrest,” he said. 

Another cop then walked up to Rick with another metal-looking thing. Pulling Rick’s arms behind him, the man snapped the metal around both hands and Rick just stood there and let him. What the hell was going on? Choker looked to his owner for answers, but the human only gazed numbly at the ground.

The first cop continued with the same professional tone, “you do not have to say anything. However, it may harm your defence if you don’t mention when questioned something which you later relay in court. And anything you now say may be used against you later.”

When Rick didn’t reply, the man motioned to the other to leave. Choker couldn’t believe his eyelights as Rick and the cop just . . . _walked away?_ Choker shook his head. Whatever, it didn’t matter. Right now, his focus was on escaping while he still had the chance. He started to sit up but stopped short when stinging pain flared in his rib cage. 

“fuck!” he hissed. Why did everything hurt so fucking much?

Choker gasped when the cop, who had been watching Rick like a hawk, turned and stared straight at **him**. Shit! He scrambled to his feet, swaying as he stood on the metal bars. Gathering his magic, he looked frantically for a place to shortcut to. He had to pick one fast or- 

**CLICK**

Choker flinched. Looking over his shoulder at the now open door, he saw another officer looming right behind him. Before he could react, something cold and heavy suddenly enveloped him. He let out a terrified squeak as he was lifted into the air, the fabric pressed firmly around him. He thrashed against the suffocating darkness, but his claws slipped right off the smooth textile.

“s-shit! l-lemme go, lemme g-go! f-fuck, _let me go!_ ” he screamed, trying to sound more angry than panicked. 

“It’s okay little guy, you’re alright, you’re safe now,” said a muffled female voice.

No no no, it wasn’t okay! He’d been _so close!_ Now he was helplessly trapped. **Again.** What were they going to do with him? Would they dust him? Muzzle him maybe? Put him in another cage? No . . . no he wouldn’t let himself be caged! He started blindly biting at the fabric, trying to get the human to drop him. 

“Easy, _easy_ little guy, you don’t have to- ow! OW! H-hey, don’t bite me!” she shouted.

“Careful, don’t let him get away,” a new male voice warned.

“I’m not! He’s just- ah!- he’s biting out of fear,” she said. Then she addressed the bitty again, saying sweetly “don’t be afraid little guy. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

Choker kept biting and struggling. He didn’t believe her. He didn’t believe in any human and their stupid promises as far as he could blast them. 

Well, any human besides _you._ You actually kept your promises.

The male voice spoke sternly. “You better not. Unless you plan to pay for the medical bills once we get him to the center.”

Choker’s eye lights flickered out. They were taking him to a center? 

his SOUL skipped a beat. He couldn’t go back there! He couldn’t get adopted again by another bastard. _He just couldn’t!_

“n-no, p-please, don’t! just . . . just lemme go, p-please!?” he panted out, going limp. 

The woman responded warmly, “it’s okay, don’t worry, we’re going to take you somewhere safe. Somewhere warm and with food. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“no, p-please! d-don’t take me to the center, i . . i want c-carrot! i want carrot! p-please!” he begged.

“You . . . want some carrots? I’m, uh, sure they’ve got some at the cen-”

“-n-no, ya fuckin’ idiot, ‘m not hungry!” he snapped. Why were humans so stupid?

“Then what is it you want?” she asked calmly. 

“i want carrot- i mean, i want, uh . . .” shit, what was your real name? Oh right. “ . . i want y/n! take me ta y/n!”

“Are they someone you trust?”

“y-yeah.”

The woman sighed. “Ok, well, do you have a way we can get in contact with Y/N?” 

“uh, i gotta phone number.” 

“Hmm, alright then, in that case, we’ll give this person a call,” she said, before adding firmly, “but if they don’t respond, then we’re going to take you to the bitty center, okay? I know you don’t wanna go, but it’s for the best. And no more biting too. Do we have a deal?”

Choker paused as he considered her words. He knew he shouldn’t let his guard down. He knew he shouldn’t trust her. But what choice did he have? He wasn’t going to escape these humans anytime soon. And if they were willing to call you, then what did he have to lose? 

He sighed, suppressing a shudder. “d-deal.”

The woman started walking, jostling Choker a little bit in the process. He flinched but kept still otherwise.

“Great. That’s it . . . just stay calm, little guy. We’re going to make sure you’re taken good care of, alright?” she said softly.

Choker didn’t reply. He closed his sockets and snuggled into the fabric. He was too tired to fight anymore. He just wanted _you._ He wanted you to hold him and tell him everything was okay. He hoped with all of his tiny SOUL that you would come for him. That you would take him back home with you. Hope was the only thing he had left. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________

**~Ring Ring~**

Your eyes flutter open. You slowly push yourself upright and groan at how stiff you felt. Forcing your muddled mind to focus, you gaze hazily at your surroundings. You were lying on your couch in the living room. Why were you lying on your couch again? And why was it so freezing cold in here?

**~Ring Ring~**

You look at the open front door and shiver. Seems you forgot to shut it after looking for Choker. Rubbing your temple, you coax out the rest of your memories. That’s right, you remember now- you’d cried into the couch cushions for what felt like hours. You must have fallen asleep from exhaustion afterwards. Is that why-

_**~Ring Ring~** _

You twitch at the sound. Looking down, you see your ringing phone on the floor. Oops. You swoop it up, hoping you’re not too late. It’s a number you don’t recognize, but something inside tells you to answer it anyway. Swiping the green button you hold the device to your ear.

“H-ell-o?” Crap. You swallow thickly and try again. “Hello?”

 _“Hello, is this Y/N speaking?”_ asked a male voice.

“Um, yes?” you answer, surprised by his formal tone. 

_“My name is David Collins, I’m an police officer for the ---------- precinct. I apologize for calling this late at night, I-”_

“-no, no it’s fine, don’t worry. I . . is, uh, something wrong officer?” you ask, trying not to sound as nervous as you felt. 

_“No, nothing is wrong. However, a man was arrested less than an hour ago and was found with a Sans-type bitty in his possession. We planned to take him to the local bitty center, but-”_

“-you foUND HIM? _YOU FOUND CHOKER!?”_ you shout, jumping to your feet.

There was no way he . . . he was . . . it couldn’t be him . . . could it?

After a moment the man replied, _”well, um, he refuses to tell us his name so I can’t say for sure. The only name he gave us was yours, along with this phone number. Although, at first, he kept asking for someone called ‘carrot’.”_

 **Carrot.**

It really _was_ him. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, concentrating on forming a coherent sentence amidst the buzzing in your head. It didn’t help that your tongue decided to grow three sizes.

“Uh . . I um . . I-I’m sorry, I just . . . i-is he okay? He’s not . . . not hurt is he?” 

_”No, no, he’s fine as far as we can tell. Maybe a little shaken up, but I think he’ll be alright.”_

You sink under the wave of relief that washes over you and fall back onto the couch in a daze. You sit in silence, palm placed over your chest, as you struggle to wrap your head around it all. 

They found Choker. He was alive. It was impossible- no, it was a _miracle!_ You couldn’t believe it. But despite your doubts, you felt hope start to flicker in your SOUL once more. 

_“Excuse me, Y/N, are you still there?”_ a distant voice asked.

“oh . . yes . . . I’m here.”

_“Okay, well, I need to confirm that the bitty is yours. If not, then we’ll take him to our local bitty center.”_

You sit up straight. “No! I mean, yes, he’s my bitty. Well, not _legally._ I found him on the streets. B-but I would like to take him home with me if I can . . . sir.”

You hear the relief in his voice as he says, _“You can. Are you able to come tonight to the station and fill out the necessary forms? If not, then we’ll drop him off at the center and you can go there to adopt him in the morning.”_

“No, it’s fine, I can leave right now,” you say, already walking to grab your keys.

 _“Alright. I’ll give you the address and we’ll fill you in on the rest of the process when you arrive,”_ he said politely.

You thank the officer (along with a clumsy apology) and write down the address he gives you. Hanging up, you plug it into your GPS and do a double take when you see the station is over _two hours away._ Without a second to spare, you grab your scarf and rush out the door, closing it behind you this time. The freezing night air goes right through you and your teeth start chattering. You run to your car, only slipping twice in the snow on your way.

While you want to speed, you have enough self control to drive carefully on the slick roads. For the first hour you can’t do anything but cry as you're overwhelmed with joy. He’s all you can think about. You desperately want to hold Choker again. To feel his _very alive, very solid_ body in your hands. To feel his little claws grip your finger. To hear his purring as he’s held against your SOUL. You’d hold him there and never ever let him go again.

But as soon as the happiness high faded, anxiety wormed its way in and started whispering to you.

Sure, Choker was alive. Sure, you were now on your way to see him. But do you really think he wants to see _you?_ After all, you let him get taken and didn’t even do anything to get him back. Maybe . . . maybe he didn’t trust you anymore. Maybe he didn’t want to come back home with you. You couldn’t blame him. You were a terrible caretaker. Even if Choker did agree to live with you, it would take at least a lifetime supply of mustard to make it up to him. Who were you kidding, there was no way to make _this_ up to him. It wouldn’t-

**-your destination is on the left-**

You jump at the robotic woman’s voice. Glancing up, the police station is on the left like she said. You took a deep breath, but it did little to calm your nerves as you walked into the building. No going back now. 

Standing in the lobby like a lost idiot, you finally notice the receptionist calling you over. You shly explain your situation and the pleasant woman guides you to a room in the back. A burly man sits behind a desk and after introductions are made, you awkwardly sit down in the chair in front of him

He clears his throat. “So, Y/N, you said you want to claim the bitty- uh, Choker, was it?”

“Yes, officer Barry. That’s why I’m here,” you say, fidgeting in the seat.

“Just Barry is fine,” he smiles, folding his hands. “Now, could you explain how you know him and why you want to claim him?” 

“I . . I found Choker on the street last Thursday, abandoned. He was hurt. I took him home and helped heal him. I did my best to take care of him. He seemed happy with me. Then I came home tonight and he wasn’t there and I . . I wasn’t sure what to do . . ” you falter, your throat tight.

Barry nodded, “I see. That matches with what we’ve managed to get out of him. Tell me, are you aware of Choker’s past and his previous owner, Rick Patterson?” 

“No sir, I . . he . . he didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t push him,” you say, unable to meet his bushy eyes.

If only you had, then you maybe wouldn’t have lost him in the first place.

Barry stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Well, it’s only right that you should make an informed decision since you’re considering adopting the bitty. However, understand that the details are not meant to be made public unless this precinct makes it so.”

You shake your head vigorously, “yes, of course!”

He smiles and continues, “In that case, you should know that Rick- his previous owner- was arrested tonight on multiple charges, one of which was for bitty fighting.”

Your eyes widen as you gasp, “bitty fighting?” 

“Yes. It’s a lot like dog fighting rings. The bitties are forced to fight each other to the death for money. It’s cruel and illegal in many states, including this one. A ring was busted almost a week ago not too far from here, and Rick was spotted but escaped. We lost track of him until a gas station cashier called us and we finally apprehended him. The bitty was found in his truck and we planned to take him to a center, but then he told us about you.”

Once Barry finished you nod slowly. Looking down at your feet, you blink back tears as the horrific truth sinks in. Choker’s owner not only abused him, but also forced him to _fight for his life against other bitties._ No wonder he was so traumatised! You wanted to vomit just _thinking_ about the sickening reality poor Choker had lived through.

“I understand you’ve been taking care of him this past week, but if you don’t want him now you know his history, that’s fine. A bitty with his kind of background is hard to control, and he’s already shown signs of aggression- having attacked and wounded Rick. He may play nice for now, but there’s no guarantee he won’t do the same to you in the future. So if you don’t feel comfortable adopting the bitty, we’ll take him to the center and get him the help he needs,” Barry said, his deep voice full of sympathy. 

You clench your fists, fingers digging into your sweaty palms. 

Barry is right. It’s . . . it’s risky at best. And even if you took Choker home, how could you possibly help him? You’d already failed him once- you’ll do it again. You should let him get care from the center, or a new, more capable owner. You should let him go. 

You _should._

But you _**won’t.**_

Maybe you were being selfish. Maybe this was a stupid decision. 

But something about taking Choker home with you just felt right. Like, this was the universe’s way of giving you a second chance. You’d lost Choker once- _you couldn’t lose him again._ Especially now you were _this close_ to getting him back.

You look up at the officer, faced fixed with determination. “No. I want to take Choker home with me.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Are you sure about this? Knowing all the risks of taking care of a bitty like him?”

You nod confidently. You didn’t care what hell he’d been through or how hard the road of recovery would be. You were going to be there for him every step of the way. 

If he’ll let you, that is . . .

Barry nods back and sighs. “Well, if you're set on adopting him, then that’s your right. You clear the background check and since Rick’s arrest, he’s no longer the bitty’s owner, so you’re free to adopt him.”

“Thank you, for understanding, I really appreciate it,” you smile shyly.

“Of course, of course. Now, it’ll take me a few minutes to get the paperwork together. Do you want to see him while you wait?”

“Yes, please!” you say, setting down your bag and standing. 

“Alright then, just head down the hall. It’s the last door on the left,” he gestured.

“Okay, thank you!” you call, closing the office door behind you.

You race down the hall, shoes clicking loudly on the smooth tile. You feel like a giddy child as you run. In fact, you’re so focused on getting to the bitty that you don’t even notice the woman exiting the door to your destination and bump right into her. The action jostles you but you quickly compose yourself.

“Oh, I- I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” you sheepishly ask as the woman regains her balance.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” she laughs. She gives you an odd look as she asks,“are you by any chance Y/N?” 

“Yes, I-I am. Choker, is he-”

“He’s in here. I just gave him a snack. Poor guy eats like he’s starving. You’re welcome to go in if you want,” she says, opening the door for you and stepping aside. 

“Thanks,” you squeak before entering the room. The door clicks behind you.

Your heart stops, all air knocked out of you as you stare ahead.

There he is.

The bitty is sitting on a table a few feet away, his back to you. From what you can see, he’s chewing some sort of cookie and making a mess everywhere. You swallow but your mouth is dry.

“Cho . . Choker?”

The bitty’s skull spins toward you. His adorable red eyelights shake and dilate, filling his widening sockets. He scrambles to his feet, abandoning the treat. You stand perfectly still as the skeleton takes a few hesitant steps forward.

“c-carrot?” 

“H-hey, Choker,” you croak.

“c-carrot!” he exclaims, darting across the table. 

You walk over to the bitty, arms stretched out to catch him. But right as he reaches the edge of the table, he vanishes in a flash of red. You stop dead in your tracks. Just as you’re about to yell for him, you feel a sudden weight on your chest. You look down to see Choker’s tiny frame shaking as he holds onto your scarf for dear life. You cup the bitty in your hands, pressing him against you.

“c-carrot, **y-y/n** , i . . i can’t- can’t believe you came, i . . i t-thought you didn’t . . . i-i thought t-that-”

“-Shhh, shh, it’s okay Choker, it’s okay. I’m here now. You’re going to be okay,” you whisper, stroking his back. 

The bitty calms a little but keeps mumbling incoherently between sobs. You feel a stab of guilt pierce through your relief. It’s **your fault** Choker is distressed and blubbering like this. You press your cheek to his skull, which he then nuzzles against. The fresh tears you’d suppressed now flowed freely down your puffy cheeks.

“I’m so, so, so sorry Choker! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t know that Rick would . . . I didn’t know . . . I-I won’t let it happen again, I p-promise. I’m s-so sorry, I . . I . . ”

“i-it’s okay, carrot,” he sniffles. “r-really. but uh, you don’t- _NNN-_ y-you don’t have’ta hold me so tightly, ya kn-know . . .”

 _Crap!_ You loosen your hold, but keep your fingers wrapped around the bitty.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean . . I didn’t hurt you, did I? H-here, let me put you down,” you say, walking over and setting him on the table.

“n-no, yer fine, ‘m okay,” he assures you with a hoarse chuckle. 

Still, you take a step back, wringing your hands close to you. You take a good look at the bitty for the first time. He’s dirty but looks unharmed with no new cracks that you can see. But he’s no longer wearing his hoodie and has instead tied it around his hips. It looks like the sleeves are stained with-

“Choker, what is _that!?”_ you gasp, pointing at the red smears. “Are you hurt? Did you lose some of your magic or-”

The bitty jumps, but quickly raises his hands to calm you. “n-no, no, it’s not my magic- it’s just blood.”

Blood? As in human blood? You look closer. Yep, it sure is.

“Is . . is that from when you hurt Rick?”

“yeah,” he smiles smugly. “stupid bastard didn’t suspect a thing, ya should’ve seen his . . his . . .”

He falters, eye sockets suddenly widening with fear. “you . . y-you know ‘bout _h-him?”_

“Yeah, Choker, I know,” you say, rubbing your arm awkwardly. 

Choker steps back warily. “h-how . . how much do you know?”

You sigh. This would have been easier if he’d been the one to tell you instead of a police officer. But there was no reason to put off this conversation any longer. You take a deep breath.

“Not much. He didn’t go into any details, so I only know the basics. He said your old owner, Rick, that he . . uh . . forced you to fight other bitties for money. That’s all I know.” 

Choker gazed at the table surface. “oh . . .”

“I know you didn’t want to talk about it, but . . I’m sorry, Choker, I don’t-”

“-no, it’s okay,” he sighed, turning away.

You frown. “No, Choker, it’s not okay, I-”

“stop, p-please . . . it’s fine. i knew you wouldn’t want me after you found out. ‘m just . . ‘m glad you helped me. i wouldn’t be here still if it weren’t fer ya. so, yeah, um, no hard feelings? sorry. ‘m shit at goodbyes,” he mumbled, wiping his sockets.

You blink, confused, then smile sadly once you realise what he means. Lowering yourself to the floor so that you’re now eye to eye with the bitty, you gently stroke his skull. Choker flinches, but doesn’t pull away. He looks up at you with fuzzy eyelights. 

“Choker, buddy, did you really think I came all this way just to say goodbye? I’m not going to abandon you now that I know your past,” you say softly.

He sniffs, “ y-you’re not . . . b-but why? i’m. . . i’m a b-bad bitty. i-i’ve h-hurt others i . . i’ve _dusted other bitties, i-”_

“-I know, I know. But that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t have a choice. And you’re not a bad bitty- you’re a good bitty who had to do bad things in order to survive. You’re not to blame, _Rick_ is. Him and everyone else who made their bitties fight you. And . . and I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Choker. You’ll never have to suffer like that again, I promise.”

Gripping your thumb tightly, he smiled grimly. “tch’, thanks, but i don’t need ya to take me in fer pity’s sake. i’ll be fine. i . . i don’t wanna be a burden to ya . . .”

“You’re not a burden! You’re a laid-back, funny, caring guy that I love hanging out with. I _want_ you to come back with me, Choker. It’s not home anymore without you.” 

Choker’s stares up at you, eyelights quivering with desperate hope. “r-really? ya mean it? ya r-really want a . . . a broken bitty like me t-ta live with ya?”

You wipe away the tears on his cheek with your free thumb. “Of course, you silly bitty! And you’re not broken- you just need a little extra TLC, that’s all. I wanna give it to you . . . if you want me to. It’s still your choice. I mean, I know I’m not really good at this, b-but I’ll try my best and-”

“-dont,” he cut you off with a serious look. “yer the best thing that ever happened to me carrot, so don’t say bullshit like that. if anyone’s messed up, it’s me. i should’a told ya ‘bout rick and . . and the fights from the start. but i didn’t cuz . . . cuz i . .”

“Hey, it’s okay Choker. I don’t blame you for not telling me. You still don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I wouldn’t wanna even think about, well, _it_ , if I were in your shoes.” 

“heh, i don’t wear shoes.”

“You know what I mean!”

The bitty chuckles again and buries his face in your hand. “yeah, yeah, sure. but uh . . thanks. ya know . . .fer understandin’.”

“Of course, Choker,” you say, resisting the urge to scoop the bitty into another hug. 

“So, um, what do you want to do?” you ask, biting your lip. 

“tch’, i wanna stay wit’ you, ya dumbass,” he says, nuzzling into your palm

That does it. You gently pick up the bitty, holding him in the crook of your neck. Rather than freezing up at the touch, he practically melts into the embrace. Another tear rolls down your cheek.

“I love you too, Choker,” you say tenderly. 

You’re blissfully unaware of time or space as you gently caress your bitty. _Your bitty._ Stars, you feel like you could burst at any moment now, you’re so happy. For a few precious seconds you silently cuddle the tiny skeleton, content to stand like that for eternity. 

Only for the sound of the door opening to break the peaceful silence. You turn around to see standing Barry behind you. Choker tenses as the intruder enters, but you keep rubbing him and he quickly relaxes again. You position your hand protectively around him and walk towards the officer. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have the adoption papers ready. They’re on my desk. Can you come sign them now or do you need another moment?” he asks.

“No, no, I’m ready.” You’ve never been more ready for anything in your life.

“Alright then, just follow me,” he says and you proceed after him.

You sit down in the same seat as before and look down to see several forms in front of you. Normally paper work like this gave you anxiety, but these documents sent an excited shiver through you instead. This was really happening! You were really going to adopt him! You pull Choker away so you could get to writing, but a small whine made you stop. The bitty looks up from your palm with pleading puppy eyes to not be put down. 

You look around for a solution and quickly find it. Tugging at your scarf, you create a sort of cozy sling with it. The bitty drops from your palm to your makeshift hammock without hesitation and makes himself at home. As soon as he’s settled comfortably, you start filling out the form. It’s all a breeze- until you reach the _NAME_ section.

You glance down at Choker and tap his skull. “Hey, uh, Choker? I um . . . I need to write your name on this form but . . . I don’t know what to write.” 

‘Choker’ doesn’t sit well with you now you know it has to do with _actual choking_ and not a poorly designed fashion item.

The bitty squints up at you, but just shrugs and rolls over towards your chest. “don’t know, don’t care. whatever ya want s’fine.”

You tap the pen to your chin. “Well, I can’t think of anything besides ‘Coco’ at the moment. How does that sound?”

The bitty responds with a happy noise. _Coco it is then!_ You quickly scribble it in and finish the rest of the form. You hand it to the patiently waiting Barry, who studies it carefully.

“Hmm, yes, everything checks out. Thank you, Y/N. If you ever need any help or have any questions, feel free to get in touch with us,” he smiles.

You stand to leave. “Thank you- for everything. Take care Officer Barry.”

“You too, Y/N. Drive safely,” he waves.

You wave back before closing the door. The station is still crowded despite the late hour. You use the scarf to shield your nervous bitty from prying eyes. Once you sit in your freezing car, exhaustion hits you like a semi truck. You sigh, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed at that moment. But a sudden distressed sound distracts you from your thoughts of sleep. You look down at Choker. He’s shaking so hard his bones are rattling and he’s whimpering as he clutches the scarf.

“Choker- I mean, Coco, are you okay? Are you cold?” you whisper, petting his skull.

He stops whimpering at the contact but continues to shiver. “n-no, ‘m not c-cold. just . . . just get a little c-car sick is all.”

Car sick? But you haven’t started driving yet. Unless . . . maybe just being _inside_ the car is making him sick? He probably doesn’t have many pleasant memories involving vehicles. Especially after tonight. You continue stroking the bitty, hoping it would calm his panic. 

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well, bud. Just try and go to sleep, okay? I’m sure you must be _bone_ -tired right now.”

Coco snickered. “heh, yeah, guess ‘m just a little _rattled_ from earlier.”

“That’s alright. But you’re okay now, so there’s nothing to worry about. It’s a long drive, but I’m gonna get you home safe tonight, make no _bones_ about it.”

The bitty chuckles tiredly again. You notice he’s no longer rattling, and he’s now curled sleepy towards your chest. He stretches his mouth in another adorable yawn. 

You pull the scarf around him, just in case he’s chilly. “So, you ready to go home now, bud?”

“yeah . . home . . sounds nice,” he drawls.

You turn your car on and hear the gentle rumble of the engine. But you feel a smaller, deeper rumble against your chest. His purr warms you to your core. You plug in your address, feeling a flash of deja vu as you glance at the clock. Hard to believe only a week ago you were out this late, in freezing weather like this, taking the injured bitty home. But this time was different. Now you were taking him home for good. The thought kept the smile on your face the entire drive home.

Finally, you arrive at your apartment and stumble across the threshold. You groan as you find you not only left the lights on, but the entire place is still in shambles from your one-sided-hide-n-seek game. Oh well. That’s a problem for future you. Current you barely has the energy to make it to bed. But somehow you manage to lock the front door and shuffle into your room. You place the sleeping bitty on your bed and grab your PJ’s to go change. When you come back, Coco is sitting hunched over, sleepily rubbing a socket. 

You hold a hand out to him. “Alright, sleepy bones, let’s go to bed”

“‘’m kay,” he yawns, crawling into your palm. 

With your free hand, you pull back the covers and turn off the light. Slipping under the covers, you set the bitty beside your pillow and roll over onto your side, your hands tucked under your head. You look over at the bitty, your eyesight having now adjusted to the dark, and see him staring at you wide eyed. 

“Cho- Coco, is everything okay?” you ask, brows knit.

“um . . . y-yeah, i just . . . nevermind. i’ll uh . . go now ‘n letcha sleep,” he says, starting to get up.

“Wait! Um . . . aren’t bitties supposed to . . you know, sleep with their, uh, humans?” you ask. That’s what you had read online. Did he not want to sleep with you? Was . . was he upset with you? 

Coco froze. “u-um, yeah, but uh, do ya . . . do ya want me to? sleep with ya?” 

“Of course I do!” you say playfully, before catching yourself and adding, “that is, if you, um, want to. I- I understand if you need some space or-”

“-tch’. just . . shut up and go ta’ sleep, ya dumbass,” he said gruffly, but you can see his smile from the glow on his cheeks.

You lay silently as the bitty crawls over to you. He pulls himself over your arm and chooses the crook of your elbow as his sleeping spot. You watch as he kneads the cloth with his claws before curling into it, his face towards yours. He closes his eye sockets, a light purr rumbling from his chest. You smile, closing your own eyes. 

“Good night, Coco. Sweet dreams,” you yawn.

“g’night carrot,” he mumbles just as you pass out.

***Coco’s POV***

Choker waited until he could hear your slow breathing to open his eye sockets. He can’t really see anything besides the silhouette of your head. 

This . . . this wasn’t a dream, was it? 

The past few hours blended together into one murky memory. One moment he’s locked in a cage, heading back to a life of fighting and dusting, and the next moment he’s gently cradled next to your SOUL. It was disorienting to say the least. He couldn’t believe he was here with you, despite feeling the warm, soft arm behind him. 

Crawling slowly to your head, he pressed the tip of his phalanges to your cheek. It was warm and kinda damp, probably from crying. But most importantly it was _real_. He burrowed his way under your chin, tucked cozily in the curve of your neck. Slowing his breathing to match yours, he let out a tired, but contended hum. 

_This wasn’t a dream._

He was really here, cuddled beside you- beside _his human._ Even in his semi-asleep state, he can faintly feel your SOUL reach out to him. It cocoons him with the warmth of your affection, assuring him that you were going to love him and keep him safe no matter what. He knows you will. You promised. Deep in his SOUL, Coco promises you the same as well.

After all, someone had to look out for your wimpy ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***You have found your bitty. He wants to go HOME***
> 
> ______________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> Here it is folks, the conclusion you've all been waiting for! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it, since is the first ending I've ever written for a story. Compliements and critiscms are equally welcome!
> 
> But don't worry, while this is technically the ending chapter, I still have an epilouge for this that I'll post it in a few days!


	15. Just A Little Bit Of Hope Goes A Long Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- 3 months laters -

“Okay, we’re here!” 

Coco opened a socket to see that- yep, the car had stopped alright. 

He groans, sitting up and stretching his stiff joints. He could have gotten a proper nap if you had just driven a bit longer. Dammit . . . he was so comfortable too. Something about the gentle rumbling of your car made the tub-turned-car seat even cozier to sleep in. That, and the heat you blasted to combat the early spring chill. Maybe he could lie back down for just a few more sec-

“Ready to go?” you ask. He stops, skull inches from the blankets under him.

Sitting back up, he glares at you sourly. “yeah, yeah, ‘m ready.”

You adjust the purse on your shoulder and hold out a hand to him. “Alright then, hop on.”

Coco doesn’t bother standing up and teleports right into your palm. He rubs his sockets sleepily and yawns. Why did you have to choose now of all times to go on this stupid trip? He was missing his nap time. Of course, _anytime_ was nap time for him, but his point still stands!

“Now keep your eyes shut and don’t peek, okay?” you say as you open the door.

“tch’, don’t worry, i won’t,” he mutters, closing his sockets.

He really won’t. You worked so hard to keep this trip a surprise for him, he couldn’t spoil it for ya. Although he was still tempted to peek. But it wasn’t his fault- you always came up with the best surprises! _Expect_ for that one time you bought a fish to keep him company. Poor fucker died within a week. Even you admitted it was a rash decision on your part. 

But you’d planned this one for at least several days and wouldn’t tell him anything besides it being someplace he’d like. Considering the bitty doesn’t get out much, the list of places fitting that description was vague at best. And with no other clues to figure it out, he had nothing but his own imagination to work with. Was it the local bitty shop? Maybe a museum of mustard? Or just a _really_ good fast food place? 

Coco fidgeted in your palm, his SOUL racing with excitement. But he kept his sockets closed, using his other senses instead. Chilly air blew over his bones, but they also felt strangely warm. Like he was sitting in front of your heat vent. And he could hear birds, lots of birds, as well as indistinct human voices. Breathing deeply, he inhaled a cool, pleasant scent. He felt so relaxed by it that he didn’t even notice you had stopped walking. 

“Alright Coco, you can open your eyes now.”

His eye sockets snap open and blink a few times to adjust to the bright light. When they do, his eyelights dilate three times their normal size. He looks at the breath-taking sight he thought he’d never get to see, his jaw hanging open comically.

You giggle. “Like it?”

_Like it?_

An open field stretched in front of them, it’s borders enveloped by the forest surrounding it. Massive trees were everywhere his tiny eyelights looked, sunbeams streaming through the dense foliage from the cloudless sky above. The humans he heard were scattered about, some walking through the field, some on well worn paths. Everything was so green and bright and vibrant. Even the air hummed with life.

He didn’t like it- he _**loved it!**_

“Coco, are you . . . are you _crying?”_

The bitty rubbed his face angrily. “n-no . . . s’just the cold makin’ my s-sockets water.”

You laughed lightly, lifting him to your free shoulder. He sat in his usual spot, grabbing on to your carrot-colored curls for balance and not at all because he liked the silky feel of them. His cheeks were now tear-free, but the embarrassed glow still stubbornly stuck to them. 

“I had no idea you were such a nature lover, Coco,” you chuckle.

The bitty smiled, his eyelight’s twinkling. “i didn’t think you’d be _leaf_ me if i told’ja.”

“Um, well, you should have told me. I uh . . oh! You know I’m such a _stick_ ler for honesty,” you grinned proudly.

Oh, it was so on. 

“yer _nuts_ is whatcha are. n’ yer _bark_ en’ up the wrong _tree_ if ya think ‘m cryin’ over this shitty ass place.”

“Really? Cause uh . . . I don’t be _leaf_ you for a second!”

“nuh uh, i already used that one. try again,” he smirked. 

“Okay, fine. But don’t think your puns will distract me from the fact that you’re a _tree_ hugger deep down.” 

Now it was Coco’s turn to frown. “what? what’sa ‘tree hugger’?”

“I, um, well, it’s uh . . someone who, um . . .“ you trail off and sigh. “You know what, nevermind. Let’s just go. I’m freezing standing here.”

He warily eyed the forest you were walking to. “wait, where we goin’?” 

“We’re going for a hike! It’s why I brought you to the park. There’s a path here that we can walk on. You’ve been cooped up inside for too long. I’m sure the fresh air will do you good,” you say, booping his nasal ridge. 

Coco rubbed the offended spot. “skeletons don’t need fresh air, ya dumbass.”

You laugh. “Okay, but bitty biology aside, I think you’ll like it. Just trust me on this one.”

“tch’, whatever,” he mumbled, crossing his arms. 

Sitting sullenly on your shoulder, he watched as the dirt path you chose was suddenly swallowed up by rows of towering trees. The air now felt a few degrees cooler, but the sunlight that filtered through leaves quickly warmed him up, making it harder to keep sulking. Five minutes later, he was grinning like a dopey idiot, his eyelights darting this way and that, afraid he’d miss seeing it all. 

You noticed his change of mood, he was sure of it, but you didn’t tease him. Instead, you eagerly pointed out anything you found interesting, whether it was an oddly shaped pinecone or a decaying old log. You even strayed from the path occasionally, kicking up soggy leaves to unearth patches of growing grass and early wildflowers. The rich scent of the moist earth wafted up each time, and each time he inhaled it with a content hum. But there was something else he smelled too . . .

“Hey, why do you keep doing that?” you ask, stopping your excursion deeper into the woods. 

“doin’ what?”

“Sniffing. What are you smelling?”

“dunno exactly, but uh . . .” he points over at a patch of trees, “. . . think it’s comin’ from over there.”

You look and grin wider. “Oh, the pine trees! Have you ever smelled pine before?”

The bitty shook his head no. 

“Alright then, hold on,” you said, trampling through the underbrush until you were right next to one of the pines. 

You held your hand near the bitty, which he stepped on to, then lifted him right up to the trunk. He’d seen trees outside the adoption center and through car windows, but he’d never been this near to any of them. They were much bigger up close and the bark felt rougher than it looked. That crisp scent was overwhelming now and he drank it in with every breath. 

“Pretty good, huh? It’s a very popular scent for candles and other human stuff.”

Coco turns to you with a lazy grin. “don’t’cha mean it’s a very _poplar_ scent?” 

You groan, “shoot, why didn’t I think of that one!”

“i dunno, _maple_ it’s cuz yer nature puns needs a lil’ _sprucing_ up?” he snickers.

You just shake your head. “Whatever. We should get back to the trail now.”

“what’s the matter? don’t want me to cy _press_ the issue?” he said, wiggling his brow bones.

“You shouldn’t _press_ your luck, mister,” you tease, lightly tapping his skull with your free hand. “Keep this up and you’ll ride in the bag the rest of the way.”

“heheh, come on, _yew_ don’t gotta be a _beech_ about it. just, stay _palm_ and we can talk-”

“-alright, bag it is!” 

_“he-heh_ , just kiddin’!” he said hastily.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, but didn’t stop smiling. As soon as you reached the path, you were back to your chipper self, chattering on about the local trees in the area besides pine. Meanwhile Coco lounged snugly in your palm, soaking up the warm rays as he listened to your chatter and the relaxing hum of noise around him. Being surrounded by green, rustling trees and breathing in fresh, crisp air, well . . . it was nicer than he would admit outloud. It was so nice in fact, that he hadn’t realised he dozed off until he felt your finger poking him.

“Wakey wakey, Coco,” you cooed.

The bitty sat up, shoving your finger away. “mmm, stap, ‘m awake, i- i’m . . .”

Coco stared at the sudden change of scenery. The never ending rows of trees were now replaced by the largest body of water he had ever seen. Was it a pond, or maybe a lake? Whatever it was called, it reflected the open sky above so perfectly it looked more like glass than water. Coco felt weightless just looking at it. He looked up at you, eyelights dilated in a way you couldn’t resist. 

“can we go over there? i wanna touch it.”

“Touch what? The pond? I’m sorry, bud, but not today. It’s still too cold for that right now. Maybe in the summer, okay?” you smiled sympathetically.

“shit . . _fine_ ,” he grumbled. He’d thought it would work for sure. 

You quickly asked, “hey, are you hungry yet? Wanna sit over there and eat some lunch?” 

Coco looked over at the bench you pointed at. “tch’, sure . . .”

But thinking of food, Coco realised he actually was kinda hungry. Thankfully the walk to the bench was short. You set him down on the seat and took your own spot, pulling two sandwich baggies from your purse. He watched hungrily as you took his- a BLT with mustard- from the bag and gave it to him. He wolfs down most of it before you even take a bite of yours. After he’s finished, you handed him his second one, still taking your sweet time to eat.

Coco looks up from his half eaten sandwich to observe the pond. The bank of it is only a few feet away, with the walking trail separating it from the bench. He chews and admires the view, when he notices a couple of birds- ducks he guesses- have stopped their swim to waddle through the reeds and over to them. Coco scoots closer to you as they snap their beaks and quack at your feet. 

You pull off a pinch of two of your bread and throw it. “Here ya go guys!”

They all dash towards the crumbs, trampling over each other in a frenzy to claim the free food. 

Heh, it’s kinda funny seeing them run like that. He wants to see it again, but without sacrificing his lunch. If only he could . . . wait . . that _could_ work. After all, they’re just a bunch a brainless birds

His toothy grin widens as he chuckles. It’s been quite a while since he’s summoned a blaster, but the max HP and full SOUL charge should make up for that.

Gathering his magic with one claw, holding his dripping sandwich in the other, a small skull appears silently behind the birds. Before you or the birds can react, it fires a hot, but harmless beam at the grass near their webbed feet. They scatter away from it, quacking frantically as they waddle back to the pond 

“Coco!” you yell indignantly, “Why would you do that to those poor ducks?” 

“ _HAHAHA!_ Cuz- _hehe_ \- t’s fuckin’- _hahehe_ \- hilarious-ous- _gehehe!”_ he chokes, almost dropping his sandwich. 

“That was so mean,” you pout.

Coco continues laughing anyway. He can’t help it! That was the funniest shit he’d seen in a while. His ribs were starting to hurt from laughing so hard. He shakily gasps, trying to calm himself, but everytime he thinks of the ducks he’s back to bending over in another fit of laughter.

“Come on, that wasn’t funny! If you scare them again then I won’t ever bring you back here,” you say sternly. 

He stops instantly. “S-sorry, sorry, i uh- heh- i won’t d-do it again,” he pants. 

You nod and turn back to your sandwich, letting silence fall between you and him. He waits until his breathing evens out before taking another bite. Once he’s stuffed the last crumb behind his teeth, he wipes his mustard-covered mouth with his sleeve. He looks up to see your done as well now, a smug smile stretching across his skull. 

“ya gotta admit tho, it was kinda funny watchin’ ‘em run like that.”

“No it wasn’t,” you say firmly, but Coco can see your barely restrained smile. 

Your eyes shift from his face to his shirt. “Ugh, did you use your sleeve again? I brought napkins, ya know.”

“heh, sorry, old habit,” he said, scratching his vertebrae with the mustard free arm.

“I know, I know, just ask next time, okay? Here, let me see it,” you say, pulling a napkin from the purse.

You held his arm between your fingers as you gently rubbed the smeared condiment off. He looks back at the pond as you cleaned him, only to spy a group of humans jogging down the path. As soon as you pulled away, he took a shortcut to your shoulder. Cuz ya know . . he’s gotta protect ya . . . in case something happens. You sit completely still as the humans run by, not sparing you or him a glance. 

Coco growls softly, but relaxes once they’re at a safe distance. Only to immediately stiffen when he sees more humans walking past the runners. They’ve got a stroller with a toddler in it and a slightly older kid skipping beside them. They walk closer and closer to their bench. Coco could tolerate most humans near him, but he fuckin’ hated kids- always tryin’ to grab him with their rough hands. He avoided them at all costs. You knew that and looked down at him with concern.

“You wanna go somewhere else?” you asked.

He nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. 

You silently picked up your purse and began walking opposite to the pond. He stayed perched on your shoulder until you stopped, now a good twenty feet away from the human-occupied path. Laying your coat down on a patch of grass, you sat down on the ground and carefully picked him up to do the same. His feet tingle when he hits the cool dirt. The grass blades bend in the breeze around him, like a big, green blanket. He plops down on his bony butt, feeling much safer now, and hums contentedly.

“This better?” you grin.

“y-yeah,” he admits. 

He looks up to see you pluck one of the many dandelions around them, and then another. You force the stem of the first to curl around the second one and tie it into a weird knot. Picking a third flower, you perform the same steps to the second stem.

He tilts his head curiously. “what’r’ya doin’?” 

Your eyes never leave your work as you say matter-of-factly, “I’m making a flower crown.”

“‘n what’cha makin’ it fer?”

“To wear of course! People make them for their head, or for their neck and arms.”

“tch’, that’s stupid.”

“Hey, don’t knock it til’ you try it!” you laugh, still adding flowers.

Despite his apathetic tone, Coco’s eyelights are glued to your hands as you work. You add a few more to the now lengthy chain before taking the last stem and wrapping it around the first flower. Letting it dangle from your finger, you hold it up for him to see the finished project.

“Ta da!” you sing.

He raises a brow bone. “uh . . . is it supposed’ta be that small?” 

You shrug. “It can be. There’s no rule about how long to make it. I can wear this as a bracelet if I want. Or . . .”

Coco tenses as the flower ‘crown’ is suddenly placed onto his skull.

“. . . _you_ can wear it as a crown!” 

Coco’s first instinct is to rip the crown off his skull, but his claws might damage it doing that. He doesn’t give a fuck about the shitty thing but . . . you might. Especially considering you made it _specifically_ for him, you sneaky human. Not knowing what else to do, he crosses his arms and glares up at you. 

“take it off,” he growls.

“Nope!” you giggle. “Consider this pay back for scaring off my ducks.”

Coco sighs but then slightly smirks. “whatever’. it was worth it.”

“Mmhmm, sure,” you say, pulling out your phone.

Coco eyes the device suspiciously. He’s got a nagging feeling that you're about to take a picture, but before he can move, you pivot the phone towards him. All he can do is blink as you snap the photo and turn away, grinning triumphantly. The bitty finally reacts, sputtering angrily as his face heats with embarrassment. 

“h-hey, don’t . . that ain’t f-fair!” he finally stammers. 

You wave a finger at him. “All is fair in ducks and flower crowns, Coco.” 

The bitty huffs and starts to pull at the crown. “fuck you, ‘m takin’ this shit off.”

“Aww, please don’t! You look so cute with it on!” 

Coco hunches in on himself and looks away from you, studying a _very_ interesting blade of grass. 

“tch’ . . . f-fine, whatever. . .” he mumbles.

After a moment of silence, you pipe up, “oh hey, look, a dog!”

The bitty straightens and looks around frantically, “d-dog!? w-where, i don’t-”

“Oh! No, I mean, up there,” you say, pointing at the sky. “That cloud looks like a dog. You see it?”

Coco squinted. “what? that looks nothin’ like a fuckin’ dog.”

“Yeah it does! See, that’s shaped like it’s head . . . and there’s it’s ears.”

He turns his head, trying to make out the dog’s head , but all he sees is an oddly shaped cloud. “nope, just looks like a cloud ta’ me.” 

“What about that one? It kinda looks like a tree to me,” you say, leaning back. “And that one is shaped like a melting snowman!”

Coco tries to find what you’re looking at, but he doesn’t see any trees or snowmen. Just clouds. Lots and lots of clouds. Holy shit, how are there so many of them? And the sky . . . it’s so much bigger now that he was out in the open without a window to block the view. The light, hazy blue seemed infinite. In fact, the sky, the clouds, everything- it all felt so open and so . . . free.

 _Free_. He’d given up hope of ever being free. Free from the shed, free from Rick’s mistreatment, free from the hell that is the bitty ring. Why should he hope? Nobody ever came to help him. Until that one night, months ago, when you did. You gave him more than hope- you gave him a chance at the life he wanted. Now here he was, happily sitting out in the sunshine beside his human without a care.

Sure, he still had his bad days ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶n̶i̶g̶h̶t̶s̶, but you were always there to hold and comfort him. You were patient and did what you could to help, even when he didn’t want you to. You were as stubborn as you were affectionate, and too often you were both. But while you could be a pain in the coccyx at times, he wouldn’t trade living with you for _anything_. 

Not even a lifetime’s supply of mustard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooh! Great job guys, we made it to the end! :D
> 
> Honestly, I'm amazed I even finished this. It's gotta _lot_ of wrinkles, being my first fic and all, but I'm proud of myself for just getting it done. And your kudos and comments have helped me greatly in the motivation department. Seriously, I'm stunned that so many of you enjoyed this little story. A big thanks to you all! :3 
> 
> Oh, and feel free to check out my new Tumblr page if you want! https://calcium-cat.tumblr.com/


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